Nightmares
by 101fingertips
Summary: COMPLETE. A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

Voldemort is already dead in this fic. Use your imagination as to what happened. The first two chapters are up today and the next two will be up tomorrow.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothiiiiiing!

**Rating: **Ah… T?

**A/N: **Pleeeeeease review! You will receive love

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Chapter 1

Harry Potter hadn't been able to sleep. He laid in his four-poster in Gryffindor Tower; he would have liked to have been tossing and turning, but he hadn't dared in fear of waking the others. Instead he had laid quite still, staring at a thin gap in his curtains where pale moonlight filtered through. He had been thinking hard.

The narrow street he trod with painstaking wariness was almost pitch black. Broken streetlamps lined either side of the road and the moon above was drifting in and out of dark, wispy cloud.

He had eventually, carefully, manoeuvred himself out of the bed and, hardly daring to breathe, slipped on his invisibility cloak. He had slowly, slowly opened the dormitory door and a pair of wary eyes had watched from the darkness as the door pulled carefully closed and Harry slipped off into the night.

He had apparated here. London. 2.05am on a dark, cold February day. He made his way soundlessly across the road, drawn to a small, shadowy house with a crumbling roof. His eyes darted left and right with every step, his wand drawn, his breathing held, the cloak pulled tight around him. Voldemort may have been vanquished but the world was still a dangerous place. Death Eaters were still running free from the grasp of the law, perhaps rallying, plotting. A sound low to the ground on his left made Harry freeze and the grip on his wand tightened as a cat came out of the bushes and darted across the dark road. He breathed a barely audible sigh of relief.

There had been a rumour, a barely heard whisper here and there in the school that people were hidden away in buildings all over London, either captive from past spells of Voldemort or in hiding, afraid to come out and unaware that the Dark Lord had been destroyed. He had heard people talking about it in whispers all over the school, and overheard Dumbledore and Lupin discussing the formation of rescue groups. In a few weeks or months, when the situation could be clearly assessed and the danger more precisely analysed.

But the thought of people hiding or trapped, frightened, perhaps alone or in danger, had embedded itself firmly in Harry's head. He didn't want to leave it for a couple of weeks. He had argued with Dumbledore, tried to persuade him, tried to reason with him - but the old professor was adamant and that was why Harry was here, alone in the dead of night. This street was a rumour hotspot - after careful sneaking and eavesdropping he had heard mention of this place from entirely separate sources. He had to see if there were people here, and if he could help them.

Creeping invisible through the shadows he drew up to the front of the house he had picked at random. Every house on this street was seemingly abandoned, in a state of disrepair. He pressed a hand quietly to the paint-chipped door, and it creaked open.

The smell of decay hit him in waves as he took his first cautious steps into the dark house. There was no moonlight here and he squinted into the gloom and waited for his eyes to adjust, not daring to light his wand. He was in a small, narrow hallway, with stairs on the left and two doors on the opposite wall. Everything smelled like mould and damp. Harry wrinkled his nose and stepped across the tiled floor, through the closest door, his heart thudding in his chest. Ron and Hermione would kill him if they knew he was here, and he dreaded to think what Dumbledore might say. He knew he was being reckless but the urge to discover, to find these possible hidden survivors, was overwhelming. He strained his eyes into the darkness to see into the room that lay before him.

A torn, dirty sofa, the stuffing oozing from the seams. A smashed television. A muggle home then, Harry thought. His green eyes roamed around the room searching for places a person could hide; doors leading elsewhere, a trapdoor in the floor… but there was nothing, so he backtracked and tried the second door from the narrow hall.

A kitchen. Harry pulled the invisibility cloak tight around him as he entered, smashed glass crunching beneath his careful feet. There was a large window to the left and the light was a little better in here. It was a small room, there were gaps under the counter top where appliances had possibly been stolen, and he could hear the soft scratchy sound of mice behind the skirting board. Plates, bowls and cutlery lay strewn across the surfaces, and the smell of rot was intense.

A distant thud from behind made Harry whirl around, his heart in his mouth.

He stared back into the hall, unable to see it in its' entirety from where he stood but not quite daring to move. His mind raced through the possibilities. The cat again, maybe. Knocking something over. Or tiles falling from the damaged roof. The door maybe hadn't closed when he came through it, until now. Or… it was a person. People. He swallowed and took a tentative step towards the shadowy passageway.

"Someone there?" he asked softly.

Silence. Only the roaring beat of blood in his ears and his heart pounding in his chest. The darkness seemed to sharpen, and his straining senses seemed painfully heightened. He took another slow step.

"Hello…?"

He came to the door and slowly peered around into the hallway. His blood seemed to freeze as he saw a figure standing in the frame of the open front door, a silhouette in the darkness and moonlight. Someone standing perfectly still, facing his way. He couldn't see the face but he knew they were staring straight at him. Harry felt as if he were made of wax - numb and feelingless on the outside, but with hot rivers of fear coursing through his insides. The person did not move.

"A- are you alright?" Harry croaked. "Are you trapped here?"

The figure remained motionless.

"Can you understand me?" Harry asked, his heart pounding so fast it hurt. "Are you in hiding?"

Whoever it was let out a sound, and it took Harry a moment to process what it was. A chuckle. A low, sneering laugh. With a silent, fluid moment they reached into what Harry noted somewhere in the far recesses of his blank mind as robes, and revealed the thin silhouette of a long, narrow wand.

"Yes," the person whispered. "In hiding, Harry Potter. We are all in hiding." Harry raised his own wand warily. "But not… for very much longer."

Before he could even move the shadowy figure slashed their wand and a blinding bolt of yellow came flashing out, slamming into Harry's chest and knocking him backwards. He screamed as sudden, unbearable pain whipped through him. Something was in his _head, _something crawling, burning, blinding. He didn't know where he was or what was happening, he only knew screaming pain whip lashing through him and he welcomed the darkness that overwhelmed him as he collapsed, dying, to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

Voldemort is already dead in this fic. Use your imagination as to what happened.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothiiiiiing!

**Rating: **Ah… T?

**A/N: **Pleeeeeease review! You will receive love

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Chapter 2

Hermione sat on a hard plastic chair in Madam Pomfreys' office, her face pale, her hands gripping the seat tight. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning but she was wide awake, and scared. Ron stood near the door, biting his lip, staring through the open blinds at the door to the hospital wing. They were waiting. They had known Harry would never be able to hold off looking for trapped survivors, and Dumbledore had known it too. A trace spell had been placed on Harry that alerted at the first sign of their friend in danger - an igniting of the castors wand in a specific shade of cobalt blue. Dumbledore had performed the spell and somehow transferred it to Ron and Hermione so that their wands would also alight if Harry ran across trouble. And all three had been awoken maybe half an hour ago. Aurors had been sent out to find him by following the trace.

Hermione relaxed her hands when she realised her fingers were beginning to ache. She glanced up at Ron, and then away. She hated seeing him afraid. What was taking so long? The spell should show them exactly where Harry ought to be.

"Hermione," Ron said suddenly in a sharp voice. "They've got him."

They ran out of the office and into the brightly lit main room of the hospital wing. Three Aurors; Kingsley and two unknown men, accompanied by Lupin, were carrying a body into the room, ushered by Madam Pomfrey.

"Over here," she said, quickly leading them to the nearest bed and pulling the blinds around. Ron and Hermione dashed over as Harry was placed on the bed. Hermione gasped.

Harry looked awful. His face and hands were bleeding and there were tears in his clothes. He was deathly pale and his eyes were closed. The Aurors and Lupin were talking to Madam Pomfrey in hushed voices.

"… Old, abandoned house…"

"…Pulled him out from under some rubble…"

"…Tried to Enervate, but he hasn't regained consciousness."

They watched as Pomfrey examined Harry, taking his pulse and scanning her wand across his body.

"All right," she said. "Everybody out. I need room to work."

"But -" said Ron.

"You can't -" shrieked Hermione.

"_Out_, I said!" The four men exited the hospital wing, Lupin giving Ron a squeeze on the shoulder as he passed. "I will alert you two if there are changes and I will let you know once you may see him. Now out of my way!"

As Ron and Hermione turned to leave there was a faint moan from the bed, and Harry stirred ever so slightly. They rushed back to his side, watching fearfully as he rolled over onto his side, then back again, his fists clenching around handfuls of bed sheet. He let out a whimper of fear or pain and then began to mumble incoherently as he stirred.

"N-no - no…"

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Out, you two! I need to take care of my patient." Madam Pomfrey chivvied them, struggling, out of the door and they glanced back as Harry's mumbles became moans and he clutched a hand to his forehead, seemingly unaware of his surroundings, soft, helpless noises of pain coming from his throat.

"No… _no. No!_"

The hospital door was slammed in their faces and Ron and Hermione turned to each other, horror-struck as screams began to sound from inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

Voldemort is already dead in this fic. Use your imagination as to what happened. Okay, I lied about only putting two chapters up. Next one tomorrow!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothiiiiiing!

**Rating: **Ah… T?

**A/N: **Pleeeeeease review! You will receive love

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Chapter 3

Ron and Hermione were not allowed to see Harry at all that day. He lay in the hospital wing in a strange state of half awake, half-unconsciousness - always with his eyes closed and unresponsive to conversation. Sometimes he was lucid, sometimes he would thrash and whimper or even scream in his sleep. If he was touched he would draw sharply back - in pain or in fright, Madam Pomfrey wasn't sure. He was moved to a separate chamber off the main hospital room, strapped down so he wouldn't struggle too much and fall off the bed, and kept under close observation all day.

The next morning Pomfrey went in to check on him. Grey February sunlight filtered in through the closed blinds and warmed the stone floor in stripes of light. The room was fairly small with only one bed.

Harry was still seemingly unconscious, his eyes closed, his hair a stark tangled mess against the crisp white sheets. He was still very pale but there was no evidence of major bloodloss - only the small cuts and scrapes that were dotted across his face, neck, arms and hands. Madam Pomfrey had extracted small shards from some of them - it seemed Harry had fallen on broken glass.

As she was watching him, Pomona Pomfrey suddenly frowned. She examined the slashes on his face and on one exposed hand, clutched around the sheets. Was it her imagination… or had the number of cuts increased since last night? It certainly seemed as though there was more than there had been. But Harry had been strapped into the bed last night…

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Hermione poked her head nervously into the room.

"Can I come in?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "For a moment, otherwise I'll never be rid of you. But _just_ for a moment."

Hermione gazed down at Harry, biting her lip, pushing back her bushy hair.

"How is he?"

"No change yet, I'm afraid. But he's stable, and safe, and he's in good hands. So no need to worry too much." Pomfrey gave the girl a reassuring smile. "Where is Mr. Weasley?"

"Still in bed I think. It's Friday - no lessons until eleven o'clock."

Hermione reached out a hand and gently stroked the tumble of black hair from Harry's forehead. He stirred ever so slightly and tried to pull away.

"Does he need to be tied down like that?"

"It's for his own safety. He keeps thrashing around, we don't want him falling off the bed and hurting himself. Once he comes round we can take them off, I expect."

Hermione nodded. She tried once again to stroke her fingers across Harry's brow but he mumbled and jerked backwards, frowning.

"He seems to react very negatively to touch," said the nurse. Harry let out a soft moan and struggled weakly against his bonds, his eyelids fluttering. He seemed to unconsciously release he was unable to move, and he began to struggle harder, tugging and whimpering. Hermione unthinking reached out a hand and he gave a sharp cry of pain, recoiling from her touch. He fought powerlessly against the restraints. A gash above his eye began to slowly trickle a path of blood across his pale skin.

"What's happening?" she whispered, aghast.

"Come on, dear. I think it's best you leave me to it."

Hermione nodded. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at her friend and she stood up quickly, blinking hard. She hurried from the room as Madam Pomfrey set to work.

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**Note: I know what you're all thinking. Where's Draco, right? Well fret ye not. He's in the next chapter. Read on Macduff! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothiiiiiing!

**Rating: **Ah… T?

**A/N: **Pleeeeeease review! You will receive love. Thankyouthankyouthankyou to** Lady Sakura of the Fated **for the first review!

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Chapter 4

A cold Saturday, mid-morning. Flurries of snow swirled across a slate-grey sky, and a freezing wind needled Draco Malfoy's skin with sharp, icy fingers. He was strolling through the ground floor corridors of the castle, wrapped up tight against the cold, broomstick in one hand, a slice of hot buttered toast in the other. He was very, very late for Quidditch practice. By the time he reached the pitch he suspected he would be at least forty-five minutes late.

He was correct. The Slytherin players were huddled in the changing rooms, breath fogging out in visible clouds, hugging themselves to stay warm.

"Where have you _been_, Malfoy?" snapped Blaise Zabini, a chaser. Draco leant his broom against the wall and shot Zabini a deathly glare. The dark boy held his eyes for a few short seconds, and then looked away, muttering at the floor. The other five players did their best to avoid any eye contact. Draco smirked and made his way into the stalls to change into emerald green robes.

Five minutes later, out in the frigid air, the seven players flew through a catalogue of moves, practising tactics and shooting goals. The house flags bordering the stands fluttered in the cold wind and the snow was settling, slowly turning the world a sharp white. Goyle bellowed to Draco that he was releasing the bludgers, and Draco signalled his approval, flying higher and circling the game, watching his team. As captain, he thought, if he wanted to be late then that was his decision, and who were they to question it? He smirked again at the thought of Zabini's livid expression, and felt a stab of vindictive pleasure at the image of him and the others waiting in the cold for their captain to arrive.

Draco Malfoy was not a complete bastard. But with morons like this… they didn't deserve any effort at civility. He watched Crabbe and Goyle, airborne boulders, slamming bats into bludgers and sending them rocketing away. The keeper was of the same mould, large enough to cover two hoops at the same time. Zabini and two sixth-year girls were the chasers, and he, Draco, was the seeker. The team was newly assembled this year.

A bludger whistled past Draco and he swerved, turning in mid-air and watching it speed away.

"_Goyle!_" he yelled to the nearest beater. "Aren't you watching out for the fucking bludgers?"

If it was possible to lumber whilst on a broomstick twenty feet in the air, Goyle did so, heading towards the offending bludger to give it a good whacking, wobbling as he raised a hand mid-flight to wipe snowflakes from this thick brow. The rest of the players continued to practice, and Draco could feel Zabini's eyes glaring into him once again.

"Malfoy!" He yelled, flying over to him, looking murderous. "This is ridiculous! It's bloody _freezing_ out here, and the snow's getting so thick I can barely see the Quaffle! What's the _point_?"

"The point, Zabini, is that we're going to need a hell of a lot of practice if we're to stand any chance of beating Gryffindor this year with a piss-poor effort like you as chaser! Get _back_ in line!"

"But-"

Draco interrupted him, his voice cold and quiet and almost lost in the gathering wind.

"Get back in line, Zabini, or you're out."

If looks could kill, Draco thought as Blaise zoomed away, leaving a gust of biting wind in his wake. He smirked to himself and pulled his black scarf closer around his neck. The tips of his fingers were numb and he couldn't feel his toes, but it gave him sadistic pleasure to keep practising, and to watch his team battle with the elements. The need for victory this year was powerful in Draco. He knew they could win against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, he was so sure of it the thought of them barely bothered him. But Gryffindor… he bit his lip. They just _had_ to win. And if that meant training every hour of the day then Draco would force his team to do it. And they had no choice but to obey.

The collected occupants of the other three houses might hate Draco's guts, but he didn't care. He still had power where it really mattered. Voldemort may be vanquished - for which Draco was glad as fawning servility really wasn't his calling - but the Malfoy name was powerful and Draco held a lot of control over Slytherin house. Enough to keep any rogue elements like Zabini in line and keep a steady flow of devoted girls and boys moving in and out of his bedroom.

Draco rolled his eyes in frustration as Crabbe flew over to help Goyle knock away the bludger that seemed to have taken a shine to him. The other team members halted in the air to observe and Draco opened his mouth to bark out orders - but the whistling sound of speeding wind behind him gave him a split seconds notice before the second, unnoticed bludger smashed into his raised right arm.

He just managed to keep back a scream of pain but the blunt force was too strong and he toppled from his broom, blacking out as he fell and not feeling the hard collision with the ground twenty feet below.

Far across on the other side of the Hogwarts grounds, a pale, unconscious boy in a lonely hospital room let out a noise of distress and struggled against his protective bonds.

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Some hours later, Draco became aware of a pulsing pain in his forehead. He drifted out of a groggy sleep with a groan, fragmented details coming back to him as he roused. Quidditch accident, of course. Sleepily and with a throbbing head he took in his surroundings. Hospital wing. He looked down at his right arm, flexing the fingers gingerly and rotating his wrist. He winced ever so slightly but the pain was dulled from a sharp cord of agony down to a dull unpleasant ache.

"Ah, I see you're back in the land of the living." Madam Pomfrey came through a door to the right and crossed the room to stand by his bed, a slightly blurred figure in pink robes and white apron. Draco sat up slowly, fingertips massing his temple. "You'll be feeling a bit sore, I expect? You took quite a fall. I fixed the break in your arm and all your cuts and bruises but you've had an unexpected shock and there's nothing I can do about shaken nerves."

"How long was I unconscious?" Draco asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"A few hours. Take the potion next to you," she indicated a glass jug containing an orange liquid on the bedside table. "Rest for a few more minutes, and then you can be on your way. I've more urgent patients to attend to I'm afraid."

She swept away. Draco reached across and poured himself a glassful of potion before settling back into the bed. It was tasteless. He watched snow swirling past the opposite window, falling thicker now than before. The sky was darkening already, and warm, cheerful lamps were lit around the hospital wing. He sat silently as his muscle pains and headaches slowly receded, thinking about the accident. He imagined a gleeful Blaise Zabini standing over his insentient form, lying bruised and broken in the snow. Bastard.

After several minutes he pushed himself up off the bed, bones cracking. His broomstick was resting against the bedside table. Madam Pomfrey must have removed his Quidditch robes - they were folded over the end of the bed and he was left clad in the outfit he had worn underneath. He stretched his limbs and made to pick up his belongings when a noise from somewhere beyond the hospital wing made him halt.

Someone… screaming? He frowned and made his way quietly in the direction of the noise. It was coming from behind the door Madam Pomfrey had exited through - it looked as though it led not out of the infirmary but into a different part. Curious, he pushed it open.

A narrow stone corridor with no windows, doors leading off on either side. The sound of screaming was coming from behind the furthest door, at the end of the short passageway. Draco tiptoed past two rows of torches burning low in brackets fixed to the walls, and the screaming voice grew quieter, replaced with desperate-sounding moans and whimpering. Draco thought it sounded male. Urgent voices spoke over the sound.

"…might have to sedate him again if he keeps this up…"

"What's _wrong_ with him?"

Approaching the door, his heart thudding, Draco quietly and carefully looked into the room. Pomfrey was standing by a bed, accompanied by Remus Lupin, and Granger and the Weasel. Lying on the bed, sobbing, moaning and struggling, was - _Potter?_

Draco's mouth fell open and he jumped when a harsh voice yelled out.

"_Malfoy_! What are you _doing_ here?"

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**Eek! Okay, I promise, I PROMISE Harry/Draco interaction the next chapter xD They're in the same room at last. As always please please please review!**

**If you've read any previous fics of mine you might have noticed they're always set in winter. I freaking love winter!**

**Chapter five will be up in a couple of hours time, and chapter 6 tomorrow.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothiiiiiing!

**Rating: **There's a bit of swearing, and some boy on boy cosiness.

**A/N: **Chapter five as promised! Pleeeeeease review! You will receive love. Thank you and big love to** Lady Sakura of the Fated **for her reviews.

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Chapter 5

"_Malfoy!_ What are you _doing_ here?"

Draco stared. Potter was lying on the bed in the dimly lit room - tied down and struggling weakly, his eyes scrunched closed, blood trickling from a gash across his face. A jumble of incoherent protests were spilling from his lips.

"Malfoy!" Weasley roared. "Get the _hell_ out of here!"

Madam Pomfrey rushed to him and tried to sweep him out of the door, chivvying him with her hands, but Draco rooted himself to the stone floor. Potter was strapped to a bed and bleeding - there was no way he was going anywhere without finding out why. He shoved himself around the matron and came to the end of the bed. Granger stared up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"What's happened to him?" he asked. He stared, astounded, as Potter flexed his hands, trying to reach out, trying to break free of the bonds around his wrists. His black hair was matted and damp, his glasses missing. A pitiful moan escaped him.

"It's nothing to do with you! Get _out_ of here!" Weasley stormed round the bed and shoved Draco hard, who stumbled backwards. Harry let out a cry of pain and rolled onto his side, curling his body up tight.

"What's going on?" Draco demanded, looking at Remus Lupin, who stood, passive, at the head of the bed.

Weasley grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him towards the door. Draco wasn't weak but Ron Weasley was considerably taller than he was and obviously strengthened by fury. Draco wrestled furiously and managed to pull himself partly free.

"Get off me! Let _go_!"

"OUT!"

"What's the matter with Potter?"

"Malfoy!" cried Madam Pomfrey. "Weasley! You are upsetting my patient! _Both_ of you out!"

"But -"

"But I _want _to know -"

"_Enough_!" Remus Lupin barely raised his voice but it cut through the commotion like a knife. Everybody turned to stare at him. He raised his hands and moved into the centre of the room, stepping between the matron and the adolescents. Hermione watched silently from her chair. Harry moaned weakly, his hands still trying to reach outwards towards them. Lupin spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy. All you need to know is that Harry is sick. Ron, you need to calm down. What you have all failed to notice is the effect something you are doing is having on Harry. When Mr. Malfoy came into the room he became noticeably agitated. When you, Ron, tried to remove Draco _from_ the room - Harry grew distressed." He looked at Madam Pomfrey, the warm glow of the lamps lighting his hair with streaks of copper. "Perhaps he is becoming responsive to external activities?"

"Perhaps even unconscious he can tell that filthy slime ball is in the room," Ron spat.

"Fuck you, Weasley."

Ignoring them, Remus continued speaking to the nurse.

"Perhaps we should examine the cause of the changes?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded and bent to touch a finger to Harry's hand. He flinched away violently, his eyelids flickering as though he was dreaming. Blood was now smudged across his face and his fingers were still reaching out and grasping at air.

"Mr. Weasley. Kindly step out of the room for a moment."

"What?"

"The room, Mr. Weasley," said the nurse in clipped tones. "Step out of it. Let us try to deduce what is causing Mr. Potters' distress."

Scowling, Ron slouched out of the room, standing just beyond the doorway and turning to view Harry's reaction. There was no visible change.

"Alright. Step back in again, close to the bed please."

Still no effect. Madam Pomfrey had him stand nearer to Draco, speak to him, yell at him, make physical contact with him - and Harry displayed no changes. She heaved a sigh.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you could step out of the room?"

Thoroughly confused, wondering what the hell was going on, Draco walked the few short steps towards the door. The effect was instantaneous. Potter let out a sound of high distress and began to thrash against his ties, trying to pull himself off the bed, his eyes still tightly closed.

"No…" he mumbled. "_No…"_

Other than his distraught cries, an immediate hush had fallen over the room. Everyone stared, astonished, at either Draco or Harry. Draco felt a knot of dread and discomfort form in his stomach as he stared at his unconscious enemy.

"And… in again, Mr. Malfoy?" uttered the matron in a hushed tone. "Close to the bed please."

Draco moving closer to Harry had the desired outcome. His anguished cries eased to soft moans, his bound hands reaching outwards. Curiosity battling with his dread, Draco took the final step across the stone flagged floor and extended a hand. His fingers made contact with Harry's cheek and the Gryffindor boy let out a distressed whimper but did not jerk away. Instead he nuzzled against Draco's hand and strained upwards, towards the boy standing over his head. Draco gasped. Lupin muttered a quiet spell and the restraints keeping the dark-haired boy pinned to the bed vanished. He toppled sideways and Draco's instincts took over before he know what he was doing - he caught Potter in his arms before he could fall to the floor.

Potter moaned softly and buried his face in the other boys' chest. Draco lowered himself slowly to a seated position on the bed, Potter curled up in his lap, fingers clutching handfuls of Draco's shirt.

Way beyond concerned now, the blonde boy looked up.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" he asked.

Nobody obliged with an answer. They all seemed too stunned to move. Draco tried to wriggle away and off the bed but the boy in his lap cried out in what seemed like pain.

"Don't," said Remus Lupin sharply.

"Can someone please tell me what is _going on_?" Draco hissed. "If you think I'm sitting here with this idiot in my lap all day you've got another thing coming! Whatever's wrong with him, _fix _it so I can get the bloody hell away from him! Why is he being like this? Why with _me _of all people?"

His voice raised with every sentence and he felt Potter stirring in his arms. Realising he still had his arms around the stupid Gryffindor he snapped them away quickly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. The sudden movement made Potter stir again and he mumbled unintelligibly into Draco's chest, heaving a sigh. Draco froze. Granger let out a gasp.

"Is he - is he waking up?" she cried.

Harry's eyelids fluttered slightly and he groaned. Granger and Weasley drew up close around the bed.

"Harry?" said Weasley in a low voice. "Can you hear me? Wake up, Harry."

Draco had enough experience in the field of people waking up next to him to know that Harry was coming round. He kept very silent and waited, his heart hammering in his chest. He had absolutely no idea what was happening and wished to god he had never walked through that bloody door.

"Harry?" whispered Granger, leaning in and placing a hand on his knee.

Potter's eyes flew open. He recoiled sharply from the touch, burying himself in Draco's shirt. His hand jerked upwards and he pressed it to the largest cut on his face, wincing in pain.

"W-what -" he croaked in a barely audible whisper. "What's… happening?" He raised his head to see whose lap he was sitting in and a look of horror crossed his face as he and Draco made eye contact.

With an anguished moan he scrambled away from Draco, backing himself up until he nearly toppled off the bed again. Behind him Weasley reached out and touched a hand to Harry's shoulder, making him cringe and jerk away, looking frightened. He pressed a hand to his forehead, whimpering in pain.

"Help him, Malfoy!" Granger yelped.

"_What?_"

"You've got to calm him down!"

"No way. This has got nothing to do with me!"

Potter clamped his hands over his ears, fingers pulling at his hair, shaking his head. He looked deranged. Draco stared at him in bewilderment.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "This is way beyond any petty squabble between you and Potter! If he's in pain then you must _help _him!"

Growling in frustration, the blonde haired boy reached out to close a hand around Potters' wrist, and yanked. Potter whimpered and tried to pull back, but he had no strength in his body and he fell against Dracos' chest. He struggled momentarily, looking appalled and scared - before the same desire to be close seemed to overwhelm him and he slumped into the other boys' arms, closing his eyes, panting hard. Draco sat absolutely still and after a few moments he felt the grip Harry had on him loosen as exhaustion took him and he drifted back to sleep.

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**A/N: Hurrah! At last! Next chapter up tomorrow :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Me no owny.

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Chapter 6

Much to their dismay and outrage, Ron and Hermione had been ejected immediately from the room. Draco sat with a sleeping Harry curled in his lap, looking up at Lupin and Pomfrey. It was early evening by now and the sky outside the snow covered windows was a dark velvet blue. Madam Pomfrey waved her wand to make the orange flames dancing in the lamps brighter. Draco was feeling very, very confused and more than a little bit angry.

"_What_ is going on?" he asked through gritted teeth, feeling the warm weight of Potters sleeping form pinning him to the bed. He tried very hard not to thump the slumbering boy. Lupin sighed and moved to sit at the end of the hospital bed, careful not to touch Harry. He opened his mouth to speak when a firm, brief knocking came from the open doorway and Professor Dumbledore swept into the room. He was clad in deep green robes embroidered with silver moons and stars.

"Good evening, Remus, Pomona. And - Mr. Malfoy?" His light blue eyes took in the scene before him - Harry, sleeping peacefully for the first time, in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

"Professor," greeted Lupin, rising. Dumbledore listened attentively as Lupin filled him in and afterwards turned to Draco with a thoughtful, serious expression. Draco felt as though he was being x-rayed and scowled defensively at the headmaster.

"Mr. Malfoy, Harry has suffered a serious injury."

"_How_?" Draco asked for the umpteenth time.

"I suppose you've heard the rumours circulating the school, about survivors from the war?"

Draco nodded, and listened closely as Professor Dumbledore explained to him about Harrys' search for trapped or hiding survivors, and the tracking spell that had alerted them to his being in danger.

"He crept out alone in the middle of the night?" said Draco in disbelief. "With Death Eaters on the run, allies of the Dark Lord everywhere, renegade Dementors all across the country?"

"Yes," said Lupin. "And we believe a spell has been cast on him. While we are not entirely sure of its' nature or effects, it seems Harry has experienced a great deal of pain, which is heightened when he is touched. He has not regained consciousness since we found him, except for a moment ago."

Draco looked down at the sleeping Potter.

"The cuts on his face," he said. "Why don't you heal them?"

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "They are of a very peculiar nature," she said. "When Potter was first brought in he had a certain amount of lacerations to his face and arms. The number seems to have increased since he arrived. They remain unhealed so as to observe whether this is true, and what is the cause if it is."

"And what has any of this got to do with me?"

"That we do not know." said Lupin. "It would appear your presence is soothing, or relieves Harrys' pain somehow. How, and why it is specifically you-" Lupin glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who shook her head. "-We have no idea."

"Do you know who cast the spell? There must be some way of finding out."

"We are looking into it. When Harry wakes, perhaps he can tell us, if not who the castor was, at least a few details about the spell. The colour of it, the shape of the light. Meanwhile it seems you can be of some help to us."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We do not know why your presence is beneficial to Harry, but you saw for yourself - it cannot be denied. Perhaps you are healing him, relieving pain, even halting the spell. While we know so little it is crucial to have you here for as much time as possible - if you will agree." Lupin glanced this time at the headmaster, looking slightly uncertain.

Draco felt rocked to the core. Potter was injured - and for some unfathomable reason, he was clinging to his enemy? Anger, frustration, confusion, resentment… a million emotions stabbed at Draco's insides. He felt sick at the thought of Potter cuddling up to him every day.

"Why should I?" he asked. "Potter hates me - and I hate him! You saw the way he reacted when he woke up! What makes you think he's going to want to be anywhere near me? And for the record I have absolutely _no_ desire to spend my days nursing him back to health!"

"Harry is not a fool," said Dumbledore softly. "If he recognises that you are helping him he will not try to resist. And - consider it, Draco. Don't you think Harry will be grateful for your help? You are not exactly popular with the wizarding world - this could be the best decision you will ever make. If you side with us we can offer you safety. Harry has a lot of power over the Ministry, over the population. If he asks for it you will be provided with protection."

"I can take care of myself!" Draco snapped.

"Against the Death Eaters on the run, Voldemorts' allies everywhere, renegade Dementors all over the country?" asked the headmaster smoothly. "You may hold considerable sway over Slytherin house, Draco, but theirs do not mirror the emotions of the outside world. You are fully aware that Voldemort was to kill you eventually - are you really so naïve as to think that because he is gone, the remaining Death Eaters will leave you be? You father once again betrayed his masters name when the battle was over - and this time he was not so readily believed. The Malfoys are not looked upon kindly by either side."

Draco bit his lip.

"However, if you agree to help us, to help Harry - we can guarantee your safety."

"My father-"

"Your father is on the run, Draco. If you request it, protection will be made available for Lucius, too."

Draco shook his head. "He would never forgive me."

Dumbledore sighed. "Then we can also keep you safe from your father. Although while he is on the run and you are here at Hogwarts, I do not think you need worry about him reaching you. Think on it, Draco - Harry is the saviour of the wizarding world. Regardless of any previous feuds between you, he now needs help and it would seem you are the person to give it. In exchange you will receive security, the good favour of Mr. Potter and a chance to re-establish with decent society - if not the Malfoy name then at least your own. Once you leave Hogwarts you will be at the mercy of your foes - if you refuse to assist Harry the repercussions may be severe. You are looking at a life shunned by both sides of the wizarding war."

Draco sat silently, thinking hard. While the thought of his life beyond Hogwarts had of course crossed his mind, it had never been presented to him so starkly. What choice did he have? Help Potter and receive the protection they were willing to offer - or refuse and have to cope with not only the outrage of the wizarding world at his decision, but also the far greater threat of Voldemorts' allies? He looked down at the sleeping boy in his lap and felt powerless, angry and frightened. As much as he may detest Potter it seemed there was no other option than to assist him.

"Alright," he said softly. "I'll do it."

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**A/N: **Please please review! Sorry it's a bit later than I said it would be but to make up for it I bring you chapter 6 AND chapter 7 in about an hours time!

Huge love to **Lady Sakura of the Fated **for her reviews.

And shiny new snugs to **Nagini Potter **and **Lennth**!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**Rating: **Swearing and non-con cuddling!

**A/N: **FINALLY the scene is set and we can start to make things a bit more interesting! If you review I will send you mental cookies.

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Chapter 7

Draco Malfoy was exhausted. Shortly after Dumbledore had left, Weasley and Granger had re-appeared, demanding entry and explanations. Lupin and Madam Pomfrey had filled them in as best they could over the Mudbloods' tears and Weasleys' ridiculous, incessant need to shout. Accusations had been slung his way of course, Draco had been expecting that. He had barely tried to defend himself. He had just wanted to be alone.

And now it was just after midnight. He had manoeuvred himself into a lying position, with Potter curled in to him, his face buried in Draco's chest, sleeping restlessly. He moaned softly in his sleep and his fingers clenched and unclenched around fistfuls of Draco's shirt.

Draco lay very still, thinking. He could not even begin to imagine why Potter might need him. He wondered what effects the spell might show when Potter was awake, and what he would say when he learned of his supposed reliance on his enemy. He wondered about the cuts Madam Pomfrey believed to be increasing, and about who might have cast the spell in the first place. He wanted to hex them into oblivion.

Frustration lapped at his insides until he wanted to scream. He knew this may be a blessing in a very heavy disguise but the idea of it was _appalling_. What if Potter was in real pain - what was he expected to do? Comfort him? Give him a hug and tell him everything would be alright? Everything was very possibly not going to be alright, and as much as he might need help Draco couldn't get around the fact that the idea of giving Potter a hug made him feel literally sick.

With these thoughts and a hundred more racing through his mind, he fell into a very uneasy, restive sleep.

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Remus Lupin was pacing Professor Dumbledores' office. The head teacher sat behind a beautiful dark wood desk, watching the other mans movements as silver instruments whirred and puffed smoke all around them.

"What if this Malfoy thing is… some sort of trap?"

Dumbledore heaved a weary sigh. "You said yourself, Remus - it cannot be denied that the Malfoy boy holds some sort of influence over Harry. Why that is, I have nothing but the beginnings of a few wild theories."

"Care to share them, professor?"

"Not just yet," a hint of a smile appeared on Dumbledores face. "And while we may well be walking into a trap, it seems there is nothing else that can be done. I would not want to deprive Harry of his only comfort. Would you?"

"No…"

Fawkes the phoenix flew from his perch and landed on the desk beside Dumbledore. He let out a low squawk as Dumbledore stroked his scarlet plumage with long fingers.

"Harry will remain under Madam Pomfreys watchful eye, and we shall monitor his progress at every step. Despite the severity of the situation I think it best if he stays in the hospital wing instead of being moved to St. Mungos. But for the time being it seems as though we can doing nothing except… let these events unfold."

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Draco Malfoy woke abruptly in the early hours of the morning. The inky black sky outside was just beginning to lighten to a cold winter grey, and a thick coating of snow still bordered the hospital windows. Draco did not notice any of this. Something was in his _bed_, thrashing and struggling. He bolted upright, his heart trip hammering in his chest. He looked down and it took him a few moments to remember why he was not _in_ his own bed - and why he was sharing one in the hospital wing with Potter.

Potter was having a nightmare, it seemed. He watched in semi-darkness as the black haired boy rolled onto his back, his eyelids fluttering, soft sounds of protest coming from him. He turned over again and put out his arms as if defend himself, muttering jumbled words in his sleep. Draco groaned. Was this going to be a regular feature in the Harry Potter sickness freakshow?

"Potter," he said irritably, tapping him not too lightly on the head. Harry moaned softly and tried to turn into the touch. "Potter, wake up."

The gash across Potters cheek began to slowly trickle blood. Draco grimaced and reached over to put a hand on the other boys' shoulder, shaking him awake.

"Potter! You're having a nightmare - for gods sake wake up!"

Potter jerked upwards with a frightened gasp, sitting bolt upright suddenly and launching himself into Dracos arms. He clung tightly to the blonde boys' t-shirt, his breathing fast and ragged. Draco rolled his eyes and put one arm very loosely around Potters shoulders.

"You were having a bad dream," he said quietly. "That's all. Get a hold of yourself."

Potter rested against him for a few moments more as his breathing slowly returned to normal. Draco could feel him shaking ever so slightly. Harry sniffed and turned his face into Draco's neck.

"Malfoy?" he said softly without looking up.

"Yeah."

Silence for a moment, and then a barely inaudible whisper, something Draco wouldn't have heard had he not been so close.

"What's happening?" Harry pulled away from him and looked into his eyes in the lifting darkness, his face a picture of confusion. "I can't remember… How did I get here? And what are you… Why do I feel like…" he trailed off.

Draco sighed. "You went off looking for survivors last night, do you remember?"

Harry nodded.

"And someone… attacked you, I suppose. They think you were hit with a spell. You've been pretty much unconscious, Pomfrey said you were in a lot of pain. But… it seems like… well, I came here by accident and apparently that had some kind of effect on you."

"Effect?" whispered Harry. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, Potter. But… I would've thought you'd be able to feel it." said Draco. He turned and put his legs over the edge of the bed, ready to stand. Harry frowned and reached out a hand which halted in mid-air. The scratch on his face had stopped bleeding and a smear of blood stained his cheek. Draco looked into his confused, anxious face and felt very little pity.

"Look," he said, and pushed himself up off the bed, quickly striding halfway across the small room.

Instantly, Harry let out a pained gasp and a hand flew to his chest. Breathing heavily, he looked up at Draco with a stare of pain and bewilderment.

"No," he gasped. "Please-"

Draco quickly made his way back to the bed and sat down close to Potter, who fell against him once again, his eyes squeezed shut, one hand still clutching his chest. He moaned weakly.

"See?" Draco said matter-of-factly. "When I'm not here, you feel pain. When I am here, it helps."

"_Why_?" Harry whispered, and Draco could tell he was equally horrified by the notion.

"No idea. They're looking into it." Draco shoved Potter over and lay back down, his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes wearily. He could hear the distant sounds of whom he supposed must be Madam Pomfrey, rising early to tend to her patients in the main hospital room.

Potter stared down at him, clad in hospital wing pyjamas, his face a map of grazes and cuts. He had a million and one questions to ask, he couldn't remember what had happened beyond walking into that ruined, deserted house, and he couldn't for the life of him understand what part Draco Malfoy played in all of this. But Malfoy looked sleepy and Harry was exhausted, and aching all over. His head was pounding. He carefully lay back down and, feeling a tide of dismay and fear crash over him, nestled himself tiredly into Malfoys' arms.

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**A/N: **Ah, the nightmare. Constant friend to slashers everywhere! And yes, I stole the 'let them unfold' line from the Goblet of Fire movie. Sshhh! :D

Thankyou to **Dezra** for her review! Thankyou all over again to **Lady Sakura of the Fated**. I hope you become a recurring theme in my thankyous xD And **Rika'sGrayWolf** - I think I'm in love with you :P

Next chapter up tomorrow! I've got a chapter by chapter plan and I _think_, as a very rough estimate, there will be around twenty-four chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N: **Chapter 8 wooo! Please, please review.

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Chapter 8

Shortly after they fell asleep, Madam Pomfrey checked in on her patient and his new carer. They were resting peacefully. As well as less pain Harry seemed to have far less trouble sleeping when Malfoy was in the vicinity. She watched the slow rise and fall of their chests in silence, thinking over the recent events. It seemed strange to her - Harry had clearly been hit with a very powerful spell, but apart from the pain there appeared to be no obvious effects. What was the curse supposed to do to him? Was it not working, or just doing something she could not see? Maybe it took time to build up in potency?

She was also lost as to the Malfoy boys' part in all of this. Had the castor meant for Draco to be a help to Harry? Why would they wish for a means of pain relief on the boy they had cast a curse on? If it was unintentional, how could it possibly have happened? Would Draco still be of assistance once the true nature of the spell presented itself?

Harry stirred in his sleep and a soft moan escaped him, a hand creeping upwards to clutch his forehead. Madam Pomfrey frowned. There was a lot of research to be done.

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"It's a trap."

"Ron-"

"It's got to be a trap."

"Ron, I really-"

"I'm _telling_ you, it's a trap!"

"_Ron!_" Hermione snapped, slamming a pile of books down onto the small table in front of her. "I get it, okay? You think it's a trap! Instead of ranting on about it why don't you try _helping_ me?"

Ron huffed at her and threw himself down onto a chair. It was still early, and the library was empty apart from themselves and Madam Pince, glaring in their direction as she stacked shelves from the far end of the room.

"What are we even looking for, anyway? Ways to prove how evil gits can cast spells on unsuspecting people and then fool everyone into thinking they're innocent?"

"No," said Hermione impatiently. "Something a bit more useful than that."

"Hermione, I'm _telling_ you-"

"That you think it's a trap!" Hermione yelled, earning her a vicious hiss from Madam Pince, flapping her arms at them from across the room. She grimaced apologetically at the crazy librarian, and turned to Ron to whisper furiously.

"This _is not _the time for petty grudges, Ronald! Harry's _sick_, and he needs our help. Whatever the reason is, he needs Malfoy too and you're just going to have to deal with that! Maybe it is a trap but the only way we'll find out isn't by raging on about it, it's by _research_!"

She thrust a pile of books towards him. Ron scowled and grabbed the topmost volume, flicking through it crossly.

"So what _are_ we looking for then?" he muttered.

"Something like the tracing spell we used on Harry, only far more complex. We don't know who the castor of the spell is, but maybe there's a charm or a potion that can find out."

"I still say Malfoy-" Ron started, but trailed off looking cowed at the glare Hermione shot him.

"If you're so sure it's Malfoy then find a spell and _prove_ it."

"You can't honestly think he's innocent in all this?"

Hermione sighed. She set her book down and gazed unseeing around the library, thinking. She thought about Harry, tied down and in pain, Harry screaming and covered in blood… Harry sleeping in Draco Malfoys arms.

"I don't know," she said softly as tears filled her eyes. "I can't imagine why Malfoy would put himself in a position where he needed to take care of Harry like this. Maybe… whatever he was doing backfired?" She turned the dusty pages of her book, scanning through useless paragraphs. "But so many things don't add up. How could he know Harry was planning to sneak out that night? How did he find him? And you saw the look on his face when Harry… when we found out Harry reacted to him like that. He was completely floored. I don't think he's that good an actor."

"I wouldn't underestimate him," said Ron darkly.

"Maybe. But the sooner we find a way to locate the castor of the spell, the sooner we can see if you're right or not. And help Harry." Hermione said quietly, and Ron reached out to awkwardly pat her on the back of the hand.

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Some hours later, Draco was once again jerked awake by Potter thrashing around next to him. Fully awake this time and more than a little pissed off, he grabbed hold of Potter not too lightly and roughly tried to shake him awake.

"Potter. _Potter!_"

Harry let out a moan and brought his hands up to defend himself, wriggling in Draco's grip. He was drenched in sweat and a tumble of incoherent words came spilling from his lips as he struggled. A hand flew out and connected hard with Draco's face. Draco shook him harder, his fingernails digging into the flesh of Potters arms.

"Potter, for gods _sake_! You're having a nightmare! _Wake up!_"

"N-no…" Potter whimpered. "_No_-"

His face and arms began to bleed again, and Draco watched, horrified, as a sudden slash appeared across his cheek and began to pour blood. Potter let out a sob and fought so hard against Draco's grip he nearly toppled them both off the bed. A flash of inspiration went through Draco and he realised that by shaking Potter he could be making matters worse.

He released his tight hold on Potters' upper arms and instead tried to envelop the struggling boy in a strong embrace, blood smearing across his shirt.

"Potter," he said urgently. The dark haired boy whimpered in his arms. "Potter, wake up." He _very _reluctantly threaded a hand through Potters' hair, trying his best not to think about who it was he was holding. Potter moaned and wriggled.

"_Potter!_" Draco yelled. "_Wake up!_"

With a shuddering gasp, Harry jerked awake. He tensed around the arms holding him still and began to struggle desperately, trying to break free. Draco gripped his wrists and shook him.

"Potter, it's me!" Potter shook his head, pulling backwards. His scar stood out livid on his forehead and the fresh wound on his face trickled blood slowly down his cheek. "You were having a bad dream, Potter - look, it's alright. It's me. It's Malfoy."

Harry gazed up at him with frightened eyes, his face streaked with sweat and blood.

"M-Malfoy?" he whispered hoarsely.

"That's right."

His eyes searched Dracos' for a moment longer and then Harry fell against the blonde boy with a groan, trembling and breathing in short, sharp gasps.

"I had - _such… _a - a bad dream," he stuttered.

Draco closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, waiting for Harry to calm down. His face stung from where Potter had unintentionally slapped him. He felt shell-shocked. That hadn't just been a bad dream - he had _watched_ as something sliced through Potter's face by invisible means. Madam Pomfrey had been right about his lacerations, they were increasing. But… while Potter was asleep? _How_? As much as Draco hated Potter, his curiosity was overwhelming him.

He waited maybe fifteen minutes until Harry had become calm, and with a promise to return swiftly, slipped out to find Madam Pomfrey and inform her of this new development.

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**A/N: **Massive, massive loveage to **Lady Sakura of the Fated**, **Lennth** and **Rika'sGrayWolf **- is it too early to start calling you guys my regulars? xD And a brand new thank you to **Knyghtshade**, too!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Please don't remind about the fact that I don't own Harry Potter.

**Rating: **Like... T+?

**A/N: **Look at me, writing away like a lunatic. I just can't leave it alone D: My attention span is so short I normally just stick to writing one-shots, but this fic kept eating away at my brain and I don't think it will leave me alone until I've written it all out. I can't believe I'm on chapter 9 already!

If you review I will love you forever and leave you shiny things in my will.

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Chapter 9

That evening Harry and Draco were joined once again by Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey and Remus Lupin. Ron and Hermione had been refused entrance again, to their utmost indignation. Draco smirked as he watched them turned away at the door. Bloody interfering Gryffindors.

Harry had been awake ever since Draco had brought him out of his nightmare, and now that he was conscious and lucid it looked as though his need for contact with Draco was lessening slightly. They sat together on the bed, not coming into contact except for every few minutes when Harry would reach out a hand to touch Draco on the small of the back, or his knee. He seemed to gain enough comfort from this alone, and from Draco's presence. But after conducting a few simple tests they gathered that it was still very painful for him when Draco moved too far away from the bed.

Madam Pomfrey had patched up the cuts and scratches on Harry's face and arms. They had a better understanding of their cause now, even if it did nothing except raise more unsolvable questions. Most of them she had been able to vanish away but the last addition had proved somewhat more difficult, and now a large plaster was covering Harry's cheekbone. Professor Dumbledore had explained to him everything that had occurred since he was brought into the hospital wing, and now he sat silently, trying to make sense of it all.

He had been hit with a curse. Nobody was quite sure what the effects of it were yet, but it had caused him a great deal of pain until they had discovered a way to ease it. Draco Malfoy. They had no idea why Malfoy might possess such an influence over him, and Harry couldn't understand at all why Malfoy would be willing to go along with it. Add to that the mysterious wounds that appeared on his face when he was sleeping, and Harry had probably never been more confused in his life.

"How are you feeling now, Harry?" asked Remus.

He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. He scratched absently at his band aid-clad cheek and said thoughtfully; "I feel alright. Tired, and a bit sore. But… better."

"What about the spell, Harry?" asked Dumbledore. "Can you feel its presence?"

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't really feel like there's any dark spell on me. I don't really remember anything except for going into that old house, and waking up earlier. Just… flashes of pain and people talking. And a dream… a dream about being attacked."

Draco stared at him curiously.

"What about your dependence on Mr. Malfoy?"

"I can feel that," Harry nodded. "Sort of like… a need to be close to him. Like an itch. And if I ignore it, it starts to hurt." He reached out and touched Draco on the knee with shaking fingertips. "But it goes away for a bit as soon as I…" he blushed and trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"How much longer is this going to last?" Draco asked impatiently. "I'm not spending the rest of my life cooped up in this room with _him_ clinging onto my arm."

Harry studied Malfoy surreptitiously. He had expected much more of a fight from Malfoy than this. He wondered how exactly he might have been swayed into helping. Not that he wasn't grateful. He shuddered to think what kind of condition he might be in now if they hadn't discovered how Draco could make him feel better.

But… it was weird. He hated it, this desire to fall into Draco Malfoys embrace, curl up and go to sleep. He wanted Malfoy to put his arms around him and it made him feel awkward and embarrassed and angry. He didn't understand it at all.

"It will last as long as it lasts, Mr. Malfoy. We cannot say for sure," said Dumbledore gravely. "You have agreed to assist us in aiding Harry and you must simply see it through until the end. Whenever that may be."

"What about this… thing that happens, when I'm asleep?" asked Harry. "The cuts and stuff?"

"As to that, I am afraid there is nothing we can do except treat them as and when they occur. You cannot go without sleep and they are not serious enough to cause any real damage. Perhaps we can discover the cause by observation."

Harry nodded at Dumbledore, not feeling entirely comforted. Basically the headmaster was saying there was nothing they could do about his face getting cut to ribbons in his sleep.

"Mr. Malfoy will be here to wake you at any signs of struggle," Dumbledore added. Draco looked angry and discomfited. Harry reached out unthinkingly and placed his hand over the back of the other boys', running his thumb slowly over Draco's skin. Malfoy turned to glare at him and Harry whipped his hand away, a fierce blush dyeing his face red.

"For now, we will leave the two of you to rest." Professor Dumbledore swept towards the door, followed by Lupin and the nurse. "Any problems, contact Madam Pomfrey immediately."

Harry nodded and watched quietly as the door closed behind the three adults, leaving him alone with Malfoy, who threw himself back against the bed and stared at the floor, scowling. Harry studied him in silence, thinking. He was feeling exhausted already and had only been awake a few short hours.

"Potter," Malfoy suddenly snapped, making him jump. "Will you kindly stop _staring_ at me? I appreciate you've come over all sentimental towards me but-"

"I have _not_ come over all sentimental," Harry retorted, reddening. "Just because for some unfathomable reason this spell has made me need you much closer to me than I would ever normally allow, it does _not _mean my feelings towards you are anything other than pure hatred."

"Wonderful," said Malfoy coolly. "I am relieved to hear that. What fun this will be, stuck in this crappy little room for god knows how long with you whimpering in your sleep and feeling me up every five minutes."

Harry had just been reaching his hand out to touch Malfoy on the knee, but he snapped it back and opened his mouth furiously. "Why are you even here then, Malfoy? I would've thought you'd be delighted at the prospect of causing me pain!"

"What choice have I got?" snapped Draco. "What am I going to do, turn to Dumbledore and say 'I'm terribly sorry Professor, but I really do hate him far too much to help, I'm afraid the Golden Boy will just have to suffer it out this time because I would honestly rather die than let him touch me'? That would go down well, wouldn't it?"

Harry glared at him furiously.

"Fine," he muttered. He turned away from Malfoy and lay down at the opposite end of the bed, his head close to Draco's feet. He pretended to be getting comfortable and reached out a hand to momentarily touch his fingertips to Dracos' leg, feeling the crawling sensation inside him fade. Malfoy scoffed. Harry ignored him and closed his eyes, waiting in silence for sleep to arrive.

--

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_He was in an enormous room, so big he couldn't see any of the edges, and everything around him was white. He turned left and right, stretching his fingertips outwards, waiting to come into contact with a wall, with anything. A noise behind made him spin around… but there was nothing there expect empty white space stretching on for what might be eternity. He turned again, slowly walking forwards, his hands outstretched._

_Again, a noise behind him. He span round and took a few hesitant, curious steps back the way he had come, but changed his mind and decided to carry on with his original route. He turned._

_Fear flooded through him at the sight of a figure standing before him. Cloaked in black with face hooded, he could see no features, nothing exposed… but a feeling of recognition flickered through his fear like lightning. He tried to speak, but his throat wasn't working. The figure began to slowly advance towards him._

_He backed up, fingertips feeling behind him, not taking his eyes from the hooded individual. Slowly they pulled a long, curved blade from inside lifeless, hanging robes. A long current of fear sparked down his spine as he backed away, not daring to take his eyes off the figure, turn around and run._

_Still they advanced towards him through the endless white, not speaking, not making a sound. The knife glittered. His back hit a wall and his fingers scrabbled over the surface, looking for a handle, a hold, anything. Terror stabbed into him as the white flickered into black momentarily. Darkness surrounded him and he could see nothing at all for a second that seemed like an eternity, until the white flashed back into life and the figure was still advancing, getting closer all the time. He edged along the barrier, nowhere left to run. The white fell to black again and the cry of terror wouldn't leave his throat. He could hear nothing, see nothing._

_White again. He felt his limbs giving out as his sight flooded back and the figure was less than three feet away, a towering outline of black with the faintest hint of gleaming eyes behind a dark hood. _

_Black again and he screamed in silence as cold, thin fingers closed around his throat and pinned him to the unseen wall. Light burst back and he thrashed against the strong grip, terror lashing through him. His hands flew wildly outwards, not connecting with anything - falling straight through the black outline of the robes and grasping nothingness. Dark and light flashed continuously like strobes and he felt the cold edge of the knife slide into his chest through a silent scream of pain._

_A cold voice hissed into the silence, drawing out syllables on a death rattle._

"_Harryyy Potter…"_

_He struggled and thrashed wildly against the hold, cold fingers strangling him and fear stabbing through him._

"_Harryyy Potter…"_

_He was trapped in the darkness, alone and dying._

"_Potter…"_

"Potter! _Potter_!"

He fought against the fingers gripping him, lashing out and this time hitting solid flesh. He screamed and struggled desperately to escape.

"Potter, wake up! For Christ's sake, _wake up!_"

He jerked upwards, a gasp of fear filling his lungs, his head pounding, a stabbing pain in his chest.

"Potter, it's alright! You were having a nightmare again. Get a grip on yourself!"

A spark of recognition flickered through Harry and he squinted through tear filled eyes, his vision filled with white blonde hair. _Malfoy_. He let out a sob and collapsed into Draco's arms, gasping in pain. Hands held onto him and he trembled uncontrollably, a hand clutching his chest.

"Oh god…" he groaned through gritted teeth.

Draco stared down at the boy in his arms. Potter was drenched in cold sweat, shivering, his breathing ragged. He tightened his hold and felt Potter cringing away in pain.

"Potter, what…? It was just a bad dream, that's all." He pulled away slightly and held the shaking boy at arms length. Disbelief and alarm coursed through him at the sight of Potter, white as a sheet and shaking, his scar red and angry on his forehead. He tugged the hand away from Potters chest and pulled his shirt apart. A gasp escaped him.

Blood was flowing from Harry's chest, staining his surrounding skin and clothes a dark red. A thin, deep wound ran nearly the length of his upper body from left to right. Draco stared at him in astonishment.

"Potter… what…?"

Harry's face was deathly pale, his eyelids heavy. He winced as Draco touched shaking fingertips to the wound.

"I dreamt it…" he whispered, and fell, unconscious, into Draco's open arms.

--

_--_

**A/N:** Whooaaa! Really freaked myself out when I was typing up that dream!

Thank you thank you to **Lady Sakura of the Fated **(seriously… can I shorten that to something? xD) and to **Nagini Potter**. I send you mind hugs. Next chapter up soon-ish, maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight if my brain won't leave me alone. Eeeee, I'm nervous about this chapter, I hope you liked it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothiiiiiing.

**Rating: **T+

**A/N:** Read and review! If you likey tell your friends about it :D

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Chapter 10

Draco had not dared to leave Potter for even a second after he collapsed. He had grabbed his wand from the bedside table and sent every possible warning sign and alert in Madam Pomfreys direction, panicking as Harrys' blood trickled into his lap, smearing over his skin as he tried to shake the unconscious boy awake. He lay as a dead weight against Draco, not moving. Draco shuddered to think about it.

Madam Pomfrey had alerted Professor Dumbledore and then immediately set about tending to Harry's wound, asking Draco quick, precise questions as she worked. The gash across his chest had refused to heal entirely, and Harry had remained unconscious for over an hour.

Now he sat, his face pale, his chest wrapped in clean white bandages, leaning tiredly against the headboard of his and Draco's shared bed. Both boys had been cleaned of blood and provided with fresh clothes. Professor Dumbledore had arranged for their belongings to be sent down to their little room, and now he was seated facing them on a cosy conjured armchair, looking very solemn. It was just after midnight and the sky outside was black, scattered with cold, bright stars. Ron and Hermione had been informed of the situation and, to Draco's annoyance, allowed to sit in on this late night meeting. Grangers eyes were bloodshot and for once, Weasley was quiet.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke softly to Harry.

"It seems the nature of the spell has at last presented itself."

Harry looked up at him with tired eyes. Every muscle in his body ached and a sharp pain burned in his chest when he breathed. There were faint purple marks visible above the collar of his t-shirt.

"I don't understand," he said hoarsely.

"It would appear that whoever cast this curse on you now has the ability to shape and control your dreams, producing pain and injury inside your head and somehow recreating it on the outside too. You say you were cut with a blade in your dreams, and the wound has been brought out of the dream with you, making it real."

"_How?_"

"I cannot say," said Dumbledore heavily. "It is very dark magic, and unlike anything I have ever seen before. Spells can of course be created, new curses can be invented… but something like this could only be produced by a wizard with skill beyond standard magic."

"What am I… going to do?" said Harry quietly, fear lapping at his insides. What _could_ he possibly do? He couldn't stay awake forever, but the thought of trying to sleep was abhorrent. What if his nightmares kept getting worse and worse, until…? What if he fell asleep and never woke up?

"We are looking into it," said Professor Dumbledore. "We are researching trace spells for the castor of the curse, and preventative methods to suppress your nightmares."

"What about a potion for dreamless sleep?" asked Hermione.

"Not strong enough," Madam Pomfrey said. "A curse so powerful that it can break into a persons dreams will not be held back by a simple potion."

"Occlumency, then," suggested Draco, breaking his silence. He sat beside the dark haired boy, their arms and fingers touching. Potter needed contact more urgently after a bad dream, it appeared. "Maybe Potter can learn to block out any external influences."

"Ah, but he cannot control it while he is asleep," replied Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt tormented and angry. Every possible chance was being slowly ticked off the list as impossible. His head hurt, his body hurt… he just wanted everyone to leave so he could curl up in the dark next to Malfoy and not have to think any more. He wanted to go to sleep but he knew that he could not.

"What if you can't find anything?" he asked, staring at his fingers entwined with Malfoys, avoiding the headmasters gaze. The slash across his skin throbbed painfully. Professor Dumbledore spoke softly.

"Try not to lose heart at such an early stage. The situation looks bleak -"

Harry scoffed humourlessly, his grip tightening around Draco's fingers. Tears of frustration came to his eyes and he blinked furiously at the ceiling.

"- but you are not defeated yet, Harry. Your friends are helping every way they can -"

"That's right!" said Hermione earnestly. "We've been looking at potions you could drink that could show who cast the spell-"

"And spells to trace them, if that doesn't work," Ron finished. He nodded encouragingly at Harry, who gave them both a tired smile.

"Thanks, guys," he said softly, as Dumbledore rose from his seat, the stars sewn into his velvet cloak shimmering in the warm lamplight. He smiled benignly down at Harry.

"We will take our leave of you now." He signalled to Harry's friends - who left after much wringing of Harry's hand from Hermione, and patting on the back from Ron, both of which made him wince - and to Madam Pomfrey, who directed Harry to two potions on the bedside table, one to help him stay awake and the other to relieve pain, before she too swept from the room behind the headmaster.

--

Sighing wearily, Harry rested his head back against the headboard, his head throbbing. The room was left filled with a tense silence. He closed his eyes and let the quiet wash over him, trying to pretend Malfoy was not in the room. He felt drained, and worried. How long would it take for his friends and professors to come up with a solution? What if it was days - or weeks? He couldn't stay awake for that long, and with no way of stopping what was happening… every time he fell asleep he became a sitting target. Fragments of memories were slowly coming back to him from the night the spell had been cast, but he had no idea who might have been the one to curse him. Was it the same person who appeared in his dreams? As dangerous an idea as it was, he thought maybe if he allowed himself to sleep he could find out more about his tormentor. Then with a sinking feeling he remembered the way his hand had fallen straight through the figure before him as though they were made of smoke. Desperation settled over him once again.

"Potter," said Draco sharply. "Are you really so stupid as to lie there with your eyes closed? You'll fall asleep!"

His eyelids snapped open. Malfoy was scowling down at him, and they stared at each other for a moment until Draco scoffed and turned away.

Harry continued to study him. As much as he detested Malfoy, he was incredibly grateful for the help he had given. Without him, Harry might still be in unbearable pain - might still be trapped in a nightmare with no-one to bring him out. The fact that Malfoy was the only one who could offer him comfort was confusing, infuriating, inexplicable… but Harry still felt glad that he was there, despite everything. He pushed his glasses up his nose and slowly rose to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in his chest.

"Malfoy," he said softly.

"What?"

He reached out hesitant fingers and touched the blonde boys arm lightly. Draco turned to look him in the eye, frowning.

"Thanks," said Harry quietly. "For… helping me. With everything."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It's not like I had a choice, is it Potter?"

"I know. I don't know why you've been dragged into all this, but… I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_?" said Draco incredulously. He felt his temper flaring. "Oh, well, that makes everything alright again then, doesn't it? I should bloody well think you are sorry, Potter! Why you had to make me a part of your freakshow I can't even begin to understand -"

"This isn't my fault!" said Harry defensively, pulling his hand away. "I didn't _want_ this to happen!"

"Maybe not but it _wouldn't_ have happened if you hadn't been so heroically _stupid_ as to go rampaging off on your own in the middle of the night like that, looking for survivors! Did you honestly think that nothing would happen? Are you that stupid that you think because You-Know-Who is gone, all the danger has passed? Do you _ever_ pause to use your brain, Potter?"

Harry stared at him, anger taking over the pain in his chest and the weariness in his bones. He had been looking for survivors! There might still be people out there that needed help, he hadn't been able to sit by and let who knew how many people suffer. He looked intently at the pale boy next to him and knew that Malfoy would have no problem putting his own self-preservation first. He took a deep, calming breath, and tried to remember how much help Draco had been in the past few days.

"Look," he said quietly. "Neither of us is exactly happy about this situation, I know. And I _am _sorry you have to be a part of this, for whatever reason." He sighed and his fingers crept warily back towards the blonde boy, closing gently round his wrist. The frustration inside him eased. He scooted marginally closer. "But… I am grateful. And I can't deny the fact that… I - I need you here," he blushed under the gaze of Malfoys' grey eyes. "Instead of fighting all the time and just making this worse, couldn't we call a truce?"

Draco stared at the boy in front of him, with pale skin and cheeks painted a dusky red, huge uncertain eyes gazing up at him.

"A truce?" he repeated doubtfully.

Harry nodded. "Look, I promise as soon as all this is over we can go back to hating each others' guts, and we'll never speak of this again. But while we're here…" he unconsciously stroked his fingers lightly down Draco's arm, looking up at him imploringly. Draco felt a shiver run up his spine under this intense gaze. "… Couldn't we just _try_ not to fight?"

A truce, Draco thought. He considered it. It would mean admitting he was stuck here for the foreseeable future - something he hadn't quite gotten around to doing. It would mean being civil towards Harry Potter - something he didn't know if he was capable of doing. He hated Potter, god how he hated him… but maybe he was right. They could forget all about it if and when this thing ended, and it wouldn't really make them _friends_, it would just put their enmity on temporary hiatus. And while Draco would never admit it to anyone in a million years, and would barely acknowledge it himself, he did.. sort of enjoy the fact that he was taking care of Potter. Harry Potter needed him, more than he needed his stupid Gryffindor friends. He was the only one who could provide the dark haired boy with comfort, the only one who could touch him without Harry recoiling in pain. It gave him a feeling of power over Granger and Weasley.

He studied Potter thoughtfully. "You really unnerved me earlier," he said softly. "I didn't think I was going to be able to wake you up. And then you were covered in blood…" he trailed off, the memory making him wince.

"Alright," he said impatiently. "_For now_, okay?"

Harry nodded. "Truce?"

Draco rolled his eyes as Potters' hand closed over his, and submitted to the inevitable.

"Truce."

--

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**A/N: **To my regulars :P Thankyou so much for all your reviews.You guys rock my tiny little world! :Settles down in front of campfire with a banjo:

**Lennth, **re. "Just pounce him already." Hahaha! You'll be waiting a lot longer for that I'm afraid. These things take time!

**Torahamutaro-chan, **re. "many DracoXHarry fics move way too fast as the authors often fail to realize how big a leap it is to go from enemies to lovers." I couldn't possibly agree more! Thankyou for your review :)

Giant hearts to **Sakura,** **Rika'sGrayWolf**,** Nagini Potter, Knyghtshade** and** Forevrlostinme, **too :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**Rating: **T

**A/N:** So. It's been longer than usual between chapters, sorry about that. But real life catches up with you at the worst of times, doesn't it? As always, review and get love heaped upon you.

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A couple of hours later, Draco was sitting leaning against the headboard again, watching as Potter tried to get the feeling back in his legs after forty-eight hours in bed by taking careful, unsteady steps around their little room. Two trunks lay, one on top of the other, carrying all the possessions that they needed whilst living there on a semi-permanent basis. The sky outside was just beginning to lighten, and Draco really felt like he ought to be asleep.

As part of the new truce they had decided that they would try and stay awake together. Harry because he was worried Draco might not be able to wake him up in time should a nightmare occur, and Draco because it didn't really seem fair for Potter to struggle with staying up while watching Malfoy sleeping happily in their shared bed. They had only been awake so far for around six hours - since Harry had received his chest wound.

"I don't really feel tired," Draco said, thinking aloud. "It's just that I'm not used to being awake at this hour -" he checked the clock hanging from the wall by the door, which told him it was just before six in the morning. "So it just automatically feels like I should be asleep."

"Yeah," said Harry, coming back over to join him on the bed. He reached out a hand and rubbed lightly across Draco's arm. "I suppose it'll take some getting used to."

They stared at each other for a moment, and then both looked away, blushing. This new temporary peace between them felt strange. Every time Potter opened his mouth Draco had to forcibly bite back a retort, every move Potter made he wanted to scorn and jeer and ridicule. He constantly repeated the objective to the truce and to his being there in his head. Make Potter better. Make Potter grateful. Use Potters' power to ensure your safety. Try not to argue. Try not to drive each other over the brink of insanity. It was difficult to cast aside six years of hatred and start over from scratch. Especially with the knowledge that any burgeoning peace between them would be dismissed as soon as this was over. Draco sighed.

"Do you feel like you need less… _contact_, now?" he asked, nodding at Harry's fingers linked around his slender wrist.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I suppose it's different when I'm asleep… but since I came round I can feel the need to… y'know…" he looked away, embarrassed. "_Touch_ you and stuff - I can feel it getting smaller."

"How long can you go without?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "I don't know."

--

They spent the next hour or so establishing the rules of Harry's desire to be close to Draco. If they sat directly next to each other he could last just under twenty minutes before the itching pain started to crawl across his flesh and under his skin. If they stood at opposite ends of the room that amount of time was halved, and Harry needed much more contact when they came back together. It wasn't enough to simply touch Draco - he needed some form of response from the other boy, too.

If Draco curled his fingers around Harry's when the dark haired boy entwined their hands, it took less time for the burning itch inside Harry to subside. He told Malfoy this, and the blonde haired boy rolled his eyes and muttered "Figures."

They tried to test what happened when Harry simply attempted to ignore the pain of not touching Draco's skin. They sat close to each other on the floor and waited, as the prickly discomfort started to build up inside of him, growing more and more unpleasant with each passing minute. He left behind the moment when he would normally reach for the other boy, and instead continued to sit still, his skin stinging and his head beginning to pound.

After five more minutes he collapsed against Draco, his breathing hard and painful, his eyes tightly closed. He raised a hand and pressed it tightly to his chest, bandaged beneath his shirt.

"It felt - like… something crawling under my skin." He let out a soft sound of distress and waited for the pain to subside, clinging tightly to the blonde boy, extracting comfort from him. "Please… can you -?"

Draco wrapped his arms loosely around Harry's waist, eliciting a moan from the other boy. Harry felt intense emotions washing over him and he struggled to regulate his breathing. They sat together on the floor in silence for a couple of minutes, until Harry felt calm.

"Let's not do that again," he said hoarsely. He sat up slowly, one hand still covering his chest. Wincing ever so slightly, he rubbed at his injury. "It felt like the cut was going to tear open."

The Slytherin boy nodded. He leant back against the side of the bed and folded his legs, staring down at the dusty stone floor. Potter still had one hand clamped around his arm. Draco looked at the clock again - quarter past seven. A whole day stretched out ahead of them, spent in their tiny hospital wing quarters. He supposed the time didn't matter anymore, there was nothing to distinguish between night and day when they wouldn't be sleeping or leaving. A flash of irritation flickered through him at being trapped in this room that contained nothing but a bed and not being allowed to sleep.

"God, this place is boring," he complained. "What do they expect us to _do_ all day and night?"

Harry rolled his eyes and cautiously pulled his hand away, ignoring the faint twinge that occurred at the loss of contact.

"There's nothing to do in here," Malfoy ranted. "How do they expect us to not kill each other after another twenty four hours when there's _nothing_ to -"

"Be quiet, will you," Harry interrupted through gritted teeth. His head hurt a little. "Complaining isn't going to make the situation any better."

"It might make _me_ feel better."

"It won't when I hex your brains out for getting on my nerves."

"Oh _please_, Potter. I'd like to see you try. And I'd like to see how you'd feel after hexing me if not being able to hold my hand every ten minutes makes you nearly throw up."

Harry ignored him. He stood up and decided to tackle the task of unpacking his trunk, if they were going to be staying for a while. He grimaced. The sound of Malfoy sighing came from behind him.

"Look, Potter," he said, and Harry turned, feeling frustrated, tired and angry. Malfoy gazed up at him from the floor, white blonde hair falling into his eyes, arms wrapped around his own slender body. "Pomfrey and Dumbledore never said we had to stay here. We'll kill each other if we don't get out of this room." He rose, brushing his clothes down, not taking his eyes off Harry. "Why don't we just leave?"

"Leave?" Harry frowned.

"Yeah. Go out, do something, come back later I suppose. It'll stop us going mad from boredom and probably help keep you awake."

"Go… where?"

"Into the grounds, down to the lake, Hogsmeade… anywhere."

Harry frowned at him.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" he asked in mock seriousness. Draco felt like kicking him.

"_No_, Potter. I am telling you that I don't want to be in this room for another second, and if you don't come with me you'll probably die alone here from not being near me. So come on."

"What if… someone sees us?"

Draco strode over to him, pulling his trunk open and rummaging around for outdoor garments. He pulled out a thick, dark green coat and black gloves and scarf.

"It's still early. And we'll go somewhere no-one can see us."

Harry bit his lip and watched Malfoy pull on his expensive-looking coat. On the one hand, he had been shut in this little room for over two days, and the thought of fresh air was very appealing. On the other hand… he was a little afraid of going outside. What if the castor of the spell was nearby? What if something happened? He didn't know, after all, what other effects the curse might be carrying that had yet to reveal themselves. Maybe he would wear himself out and… fall asleep? What if somebody saw them? What if somehow they got separated?

"Potter for gods' sake, will you stop standing there like a moron?" Draco snapped. "Come _on_."

So with a sigh and a slight feeling of trepidation, Harry followed Draco Malfoy into the corridor and out of the hospital wing, heading for the Hogwarts grounds.

--

Far away on the other side of the castle, two Gryffindors sat in a lonely, empty library. Ron Weasley was slowly and surreptitiously trying to lower his head to rest it against the stack of books in front of him, when a gasp of amazement and a hand clamping around his arm made him jolt awake. Hermiones' eyes were huge, her face tired and drawn.

"_Ron_," she breathed. "I think I've found something!"

--

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**A/N: Rika'sGrayWolf, Lady Sakura, forevrlostinme, Nagini Potter, Lennth, suki53, Dezra, Wolf **and **DcMaddoxx**. Thanks for your reviews of chapter 10, you guys are the awesomest! And as a random side note… you have no idea how hard it is to come up with a proper decent-sounding sentence for "If Draco held Harry's hand back while Harry held Draco's hand -" xD It's impossible! Next chapter up maaaaaaybe later. If not then tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**Rating: **T+

**A/N:** You guys must hate me! Did you think I'd given up on the fic? I'm really sorry, I've been so ill this past week I haven't even been able to look at a computer screen without throwing up. I hope you haven't all given up on me! To try and bribe you back round the campfire I present you with not one, not two but THREE new chapters! I am sorry D:

As always please **review** and I will pour love and gratitude down upon you.

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Chapter 12

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as they stepped out of the castle front doors. He shivered slightly in the cold winter air and pulled his coat tighter around him. The sky was grey with the pre light of dawn and he could the faint sounds of birdsong from the trees at the edge of the forest.

They had crept out of their hospital room just before seven thirty, slipping unnoticed past Madam Pomfrey, tending to patients at the opposite end of the room. They had encountered no-one as they walked in silence through the stone corridors of Hogwarts, still cloaked in partial darkness. Now the cold outdoor air made Harry feel awake and refreshed, and in his head he grudgingly admitted Dracos' idea had been a good one.

"Just for a walk," replied Malfoy, seemingly oblivious to the frosty weather. Harry wondered if maybe all those years spent in the dungeons had desensitised Draco to the cold. He shivered.

They headed down the sloping grass, following the rocky footpath which took them in the opposite direction to the Quidditch pitch - towards the forbidden forest and Hagrid's hut. The sky was thick with clouds and the first drops of rain hit Harry as they walked. It felt good to get away from their room. The dark skeletons of trees bordered the forest and Hagrids hut was lightless, the curtains drawn.

"I don't think it would be a good idea to do too much walking around," said Harry after a while. "We don't wanna tire ourselves out."

Draco reached the bottom of the steep lawn, the point where the pathways stopped and the grass smoothed out, leading into the shadows of the forest.

"Alright," he said, and sat down at the end of the gravel path. Harry took a seat next to him and reached out a hand, lightly closing his fingers around the blonde boys' wrist. The familiar warm sense of comfort seeped into him, driving back the itch and burn of losing contact with Draco. He yawned and tried to bury himself deeper into his coat.

"Tired?" Draco asked. Harry shook his head.

"Not really. It's just… like you said. My brain thinks I should be asleep at this hour." They had only been awake a few hours, since Harry had had his terrible nightmare and received the wound on his chest. He dreaded the thought of sleep, and worried what would happen if Dumbledore and his friends failed to quickly come up with a solution to his problem. How long could he stay awake? What might happen if he accidentally fell asleep? He rubbed carefully at the wound on his chest as Malfoy stared at him in the grey morning light.

"Worried?" Draco said quietly.

Harry looked up at him. He released his hold on Dracos' arm and unthinkingly reached out to smooth down the creases in the pale boys' dark green coat. His hand travelled slowly up Draco's chest, coming to rest at his collar, skimming lightly over the pale exposed skin of his neck. He blushed under the Slytherins gaze, but couldn't help himself from scooting closer. He looked up into dark grey eyes and struggled with wanting to close the gap between them. His fingertips brushed Malfoy's face.

"Yeah," he said softly. They gazed at each other for a moment before Draco cleared his throat awkwardly and Harry snapped his hand back, his cheeks flushed scarlet. Tense silence filled the air. Raindrops fell intermittently onto Harry's skin.

"What… ah, what are you worried about?" Draco asked, looking in the opposite direction to the dark haired boy.

Harry bit his lip. He didn't feel like discussing this, and he _really _didn't feel like discussing it with Draco Malfoy. But what choice did he have? If they were going to survive and not kill each other during this enforced companionship, they were going to have to do an uncomfortable amount of sharing.

"Just… you know," he said quietly. "What if they can't find a way to break the spell, what if it can't _be_ broken? I can't stay awake forever. But… I can't go to sleep, either."

"All spells can be broken somehow, Potter."

"Yeah, but if they can't find a way…" Harry trailed off. He sighed. "What if I accidentally fall asleep, and it happens again? What if…"

Draco studied him in the foggy grey light. Potter looked a little tired and worried, his face was pale… but he didn't look as though he was battling with a dark curse.

"What if what?" he asked.

Sighing, Potter studied the sky as thunder rumbled overhead. He avoided Draco's eyes.

"What if you can't wake me up?" he mumbled. He felt lost, like his world had been turned upside down. Normally with a situation like this he would turn to Ron and Hermione, but touching anybody else caused him pain, and if he was honest, he really didn't want to be around anybody right now.

Well, he thought, that's not strictly true. This was one person he wanted to be around. A certain blonde-haired, pale-skinned Slytherin somebody. It was so infuriating not knowing why Malfoy played a part in this - did he really not know why, or was Draco lying to him? This whole thing could be caused by him, or related to him in some way. But then why would he make himself a comfort to Harry? He did undeniably feel safe when he was close to Draco. He hadn't included it in his list of fears as he was almost too embarrassed to think about it, let alone tell Draco - but although the physical pain of not touching the Slytherin was decreasing… the desire to simply be around him was definitely increasing. Like before, when he had touched his fingertips to the pale skin of Malfoys' face. It hadn't been because he needed to. It had been because he _wanted_ to. He severely hoped that was just a part of the spell, too.

He was so lost in his thoughts he was almost startled when Draco spoke.

"I will wake you up," he said quietly. Harry heard the promise in his voice and he turned to his companion and smiled. Draco rolled his eyes, making Harry let out a reluctant laugh. Thunder crackled overhead in reply. A glowing light came from the windows of Hagrids' cabin, and slowly smoke began to rise from the chimney, but they stayed where they were, hidden by the trees and sat together in comfortable silence.

--

An hour or so later, Hermione, Ron and Madam Pomfrey were gathered in the boys room. Hermione was tearing her out in agitation, vocalising all her thoughts on where Harry and Draco might have gone, what could have happened to them, who might have kidnapped them. Ron sat very still in a chair by the head of the bed, a book clutched in his hands.

Madam Pomfrey was trying to pacify Hermione.

"I'm sure they're fine," she soothed. "When I get my hands on them, however-"

"They probably just went out for a walk or something," said Ron. "Harry has been cooped up in here for ages." He didn't voice his real opinion, which was that Malfoy had probably murdered Harry and then dragged his body off to bury it. He was just thinking his way through the finer points of how much bodily damage he would cause to the Slytherin git when the door creaked open and Harry and Malfoy walked in.

"Harry!" shrieked Hermione, launching herself at him. Harry gasped and grabbed Draco's arm, shielding himself.

"Hermione - don't! It still hurts!"

She stopped in mid-dash and stared at him, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks and damp, wind-swept hair.

"Where have you _been_?"

"For a walk," said Draco, looking at her as though she was a simpleton.

"A _walk_? We've been worried sick!"

"Now, Miss Granger," said the matron, stepping forward. She cast shrewd eyes over the two boys "Please calm down. I'm sure Potter and Mr. Malfoy can explain themselves."

"Explain…?" repeated Harry. He looked at his blonde companion, who was having a scowling contest with Ron. "We just… wanted to get out for a bit, that's all. So we went for a walk. To clear our heads and stuff."

"Then why sneak out of here in such a manner?" interjected Madam Pomfrey. "You are no longer bound to the bed, Mr. Potter. If you wish to leave the hospital wing you may do so - but please inform somebody before you go off and lead your friends to believe you have been kidnapped."

Harry stared at her. He hadn't thought - he looked at Hermione, her eyes filled with tears, and at Ron, who hadn't moved from his seat and was still white-faced, his hands gripping a large book.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"Well, never mind." Madam Pomfrey gathered her robes and prepared to leave. "A short visit from Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, and then I shall return to check on you both." And with that she swept out of the room.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Draco disregarded their visitors and pulled a book from his trunk, sitting himself down on the bed. Harry watched him as he began to read, then turned to his friends. He opened his mouth to apologise but Ron interrupted him.

"Never mind about that, Harry. We came to tell you - we found something!" He lifted the book from his lap and placed it on the bed, opening the heavy pages and making dust rise up into the surrounding air. Draco glared at him.

"We've been researching locator spells in the library," he said as Harry moved closer. "And it looks like Hermione found one!"

"The book is really old," said Hermione, who seemed to have regained some composure. "There's no title on it, so it might be a bit risky - but it all seems to be there. It's a potion. When you drink it, somehow it indicates the strongest magical influence on you - in your case it would be the curse. Hopefully it will show us who cast it."

"That's brilliant!" said Harry, and his friends beamed. He felt hope for the first time, like a weight had been lifted from him. He felt terribly guilty for thinking he didn't want to be around Ron and Hermione.

Draco had been secretly watching this scene while pretending to read, and now his curiosity overwhelmed him. He threw down his own book and picked up the one on the bed next to him, scanning the torn, dusty pages with a wrinkled nose.

"How long does it take to make?" he asked.

Ron and Hermione's smiles faltered.

"Ah," said Hermione quietly. "Well… that's the thing. It's quite a complex potion, you see Harry -" she turned to look at him earnestly. "It will work when it's finished, I'm sure of it! But… it takes quite a while to develop."

Harry experienced a sinking feeling of dread, like the weight resettling itself onto his shoulders. "How long?" he asked.

"Three weeks," said Draco, reading from the archaic volume. "Three bloody _weeks_."

"What?" said Harry, aghast. "Three - how am I supposed to stay awake for _three_ whole _weeks_?"

"We'll think of something, Harry, we will!" exclaimed Hermione, her eyes shining with tears. "We'll find a way to help you sleep without having nightmares - just for while we're making the potion, and then we'll find whoever cast the curse and we'll figure out how to take it off!"

Harry stared at her. He knew he should feel hopeful, but… even if this potion did work he was looking at the prospect of three entire weeks with no sleep. Was that even possible? He was bound to slip up, fall asleep. The thought of it made his blood run cold. And even if the potion did work, there was still so much that might go wrong. What if they knew who had cast the spell but couldn't find them?

"Have you told Pomfrey about this?" he asked.

"Well… no." said Ron. "She told us Dumbledore has been called away, something to do with the Ministry, I dunno… and she said we weren't to try anything until he comes back."

"But we need to do this now," Hermione said. "Some of the ingredients need to be prepared at the full moon, which is next week. If we wait we won't be able to start it until next month."

"What do you think?" Harry asked softly, looking at Draco.

Malfoy shrugged. "What other choice do we have?" he asked.

Harry nodded, and turned to Ron and Hermione. "Okay," he said.

--

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**A/N: **Onwards!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**Rating: **T+

**A/N: **Wait!! Stop!! If you've come to this chapter thinking it's the latest instalment then you need to go back to chapter 12 - this is the second of three new chapters :D

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Chapter 13

Ron and Hermione had been steered out of their little room soon afterwards, and Madam Pomfrey had done a thorough check-up on both boys. Harry had been fascinated with Malfoys' medical examination, as it answered a lot of questions about Draco that he himself had been wanting to ask.

"Do you feel any of the need for contact that Mr Potter is feeling?" Madam Pomfrey had asked.

"No," Draco replied.

"Do you feel pain when he feels pain?"

"No."

"Can you sense the attachment he is feeling towards you?"

"No."

Maybe not quite the answers Harry had hoped for, but answers just the same. Madam Pomfrey had then turned on him and gone through a far more thorough examination.

Now it was late in the evening and Harry and Draco were still in the hospital wing, joined by Remus Lupin. Draco was resolutely reading his book again on a chair in the corner of the room, while Harry and Lupin sat on the bed, talking in low voices.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?" Remus asked. His hair was streaked with grey and he was clad in tattered robes as usual, his eyes dark with concern. Harry shrugged.

"I suppose," he mumbled softly. How to voice all the doubts and anxieties that were crowding his mind?

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," said Remus. He reached out and gripped the younger boys' shoulder, then ran a hand through Harry's dark hair. Harry smiled. It felt comforting, fatherly. He sighed.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "It's - it's alright now, it's just… what's going to happen? I'm already tired, and it's not going to get any better, is it? Eventually I'm going to _have _to go to sleep, and - what happens when I do? I'm just…" he trailed off, feeling embarrassed and upset. He tried to focus on Ron and Hermione, creating the potion that might save him, but it didn't stir any hope inside him.

"We will find a way out of this, Harry," said Remus. "Meanwhile we're all here for you - and you've got Draco. Is it helping, having him here?"

Harry turned to look at Malfoy, lost in his book and unaware he was being talked about and observed. "I guess…" he said. "Yeah. It helps, but it's just so… I don't understand _why_ he's here." Draco pushed his hair out of his eyes and turned a page, a slight frown creasing his brow. Harry wanted to go and curl up in his lap. He clenched fistfuls of the bedspread and held himself back, blinking back tears of frustration. _How _he was he going to stay awake for three whole weeks?

"We'll find a way out of it," Remus repeated. "And with Ron and Hermione working on the potion -"

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes bright. "What?" he asked. "You know about that?"

Remus chuckled. "Yes. They needed some advice on making the potion, and strangely they didn't seem to want to ask Professor Snape, so they came to me. Don't worry," he said, smiling reassuringly. "Your secret's safe with me."

Harry nodded, and soon after that Lupin left. He sighed and lay back on the bed, his head on the soft pillow. He closed his eyes and really wished he could go to sleep. His mind was a whirl of confusion and anxiety, all spiking through the haze of fatigue that had settled over him as the hours passed and he strived to stay awake.

"Potter," said Draco warningly.

"I know." He sat up wearily, knowing he couldn't risk falling asleep. His head was beginning to ache. "What are you reading?" he asked, massaging his temple.

"A book," Draco replied, not looking up from his seat.

"Oh, get stuffed then," Harry snapped. The blonde boy looked up at him in slight surprise.

"What's the matter with you?"

Harry stared at him incredulously. "What's the _matter_ with me? There's a curse on me that nobody understands or knows how to lift, I can't go to sleep even though I'm knackered and any hope of stopping this is _three_ fucking weeks away. If I slip up I might just be attacked or murdered in my sleep, I can't have anybody touch me without feeling like I've been set on fire - and to top it all off I'm having to spend every single day with _you_, feeling… feeling like I want to -"

He stopped abruptly, then let out a harsh, humourless laugh. "Take your pick then, Malfoy."

"God, you really do know how to milk the tragic hero act, don't you?" snapped Draco angrily. Harry stared at him, astonished. "This isn't exactly a walk in the park for me either, Potter!"

"Then just _leave_, Malfoy."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure nobody would have anything to say about that - Lupin, Pomfrey and Dumbledore, and your stupid little friends - they'd all happily let me stroll out of here and leave you to die, wouldn't they?"

"Since when do you care what they say?"

"I _don't_, Potter. Look, just shut up, okay?" Draco chucked his book to the floor, scowling at him. "I really can't be bothered to argue with you."

Harry glared at him. His head was pounding and his entire body was starting to ache and hurt. He fell back against the bed again, burying his head in the cool pillow, closing his eyes.

Draco watched him, feeling irritated. He could quite clearly see that Potter needed his contact, he was frowning in pain and rubbing at his forehead. The boy drove him _crazy_, he was so stubborn and ridiculous. Sometimes he found himself fantasising about how much better it would make him feel if he could just punch Harry in the face and be done with it. He settled instead for throwing his book at him.

"What?" Harry snapped.

"Potter, for gods' sake. If you need to will you just _come here _and get it over with?"

Harry shook his head.

"You come here," he mumbled defiantly.

Sighing petulantly, Draco rose from his chair and crossed the room towards the dark haired boy lying on the bed. He shoved Harry over and lay down next to him, sighing as Harry wriggled into his arms, nuzzling into his chest with a soft moan. Draco tightened his arms around Potter and waited, the stupid Gryffindor boy clinging to him weakly.

"I still hate you," Harry muttered, his voice muffled against the fabric of Dracos' shirt.

Draco chuckled. "I hate you too," he said softly. "Better?"

"Mmm. Not yet."

They lay in silence, Harry with his eyes tightly closed, his face pressed against Draco's chest. Draco rested his chin on the top of Potter's head and watched the flickering lamps cast warm shadows on the walls of their little room. It didn't feel so bad, he thought. If he tried his hardest not to think of the boy in his arms as Harry Potter, hero, golden boy, pain in the arse, et cetera, and just thought of him as this boy called Harry… then really, it wasn't so bad.

"Do you think Ron and Hermione have started on the potion yet?" Harry asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Please don't mention Weasley when we're in this position. It makes me feel ill."

Harry chuckled. He lifted his head and looked up at Draco, taking in the fine, pale features and stormy grey eyes. "Thanks," he mumbled shyly. Draco rolled his eyes as usual.

--

--

Meanwhile, on the second floor, Ron and Hermione were making their way down a dark, deserted corridor. They came to a door with a little sign fixed to it and stood before it, their arms full of ingredients. It was late, and they had crept into the potions store room and taken as much as they could carry. Ron pushed open the door, which creaked loudly from disuse. They stepped into the bathroom, torches burning merrily on the walls and casting faint green shadows across the porcelain and tiles. A cracked, spotted mirror hung on the wall opposite them.

They headed for the furthest cubicle from the door, where a cauldron was bubbling over a broken toilet full of dancing orange flames. They dropped the potions ingredients to the floor as Myrtle wailed and cried in the stall next to theirs.

"Just like old times, eh?" asked Ron.

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**A/N:** Eeee! I hope you liked it. Next chapter up in an hour or so. Love to all the gang!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.

**Rating: **T+

**A/N:** Stop right there!! If you've come to this chapter thinking it's the latest instalment - you need to go right back to chapter 12. This is the third of three new chapters :D

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Chapter 14

The next morning, Professor Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts. Remus Lupin paid him a visit in his office. It was cold and crisp outside, the sky a thick blanket of white which threatened snow. But inside Dumbledores' office the fire crackled cheerily and the room was cosy and warm.

Remus told the headmaster about Ron and Hermione, and their plot to create a curse locator potion. He felt terribly guilty for divulging their secret but thought it was best if Professor Dumbledore knew.

"Ah," said the old professor now, smiling benignly. "Yes, I thought they might get up to something like this. I wonder why they feel they must do it in secret?"

Remus smiled. "It's just what they've always done, isn't it? Secret plots and all those sort of things, it's the Gryffindor way. And I expect they worry you might tell them to stop if you knew."

"No, no. What harm can come from them trying? Let them carry on believing to be concealed." Dumbledore took a humbug from a little dish on his desk and offered one to Remus, who declined. "And what about Harry?" he asked. "How is he coping?"

"He's alright," Remus sighed. He gazed unseeingly into the bright, crackling fire. "A little depressed, of course, and worried. Do you have any leads about who may have cast the spell?"

"Nothing. Whoever it is they are highly skilled at covering their tracks."

"Albus - what are we going to do about his sleeping?"

"I am working on it," said Dumbledore heavily. "An ingenious idea, don't you think - to attack when the subject is at their most vulnerable. Harry is truly defenceless in his sleep. If it weren't for the Malfoy boy I imagine we would have lost him already."

"Harry worries about that too," said Remus. He stood up and began to pace slowly up and down the office. "I think he's becoming attached to Draco, and that frightens him."

"Yes, they are so devoted to hating one another, aren't they? Perhaps some good will come from all of this then," said Dumbledore, popping another sweet into his mouth. The first delicate flakes of snow began to fall against the window pane. "Unfortunately Harry has no choice but to remain attached to Draco until we can break the hold of this curse. Then it is up to the two of them to decide where they go from there."

--

--

"Pass me that little bag, will you Hermione."

"This one?"

"No - the one next to it. With the eyes in."

Ron and Hermione had been in the deserted bathroom until the early hours of the morning, and now they were back, Hermione stirring in a steady clockwise direction as Ron poured glittering beetle eyes into the bubbling cauldron. The potion was in its initial stages of development, still with a long way to go. They gathered close around the little fire, their breath coming out in visible puffs.

"What next?"

"The wartcap powder," Hermione read from the book propped on the cistern and passed him the small transparent vial containing fine, pale brown particles. "Careful not to touch it."

"All of it in?"

"Yeah."

Ron carefully poured in the contents of the vial and they watched as the potion turned from a thick, viscous red to a paler shade of brown. Hermione nodded.

"It looks like it says in the book. Now we just have to stir for a few minutes and then leave it for four hours." She yawned. "We can go visit Harry."

Ron nodded, watching her blend the potion. "He must be going mad trapped in the same room as that bastard, all day every day."

"Don't you think Malfoy has actually been incredibly helpful through all of this?" said Hermione impatiently. "What would have happened to Harry if he hadn't agreed to look after him?"

"He's still a git," Ron said simply. Hermione tutted at him. She stirred in silence for a few minutes as Ron crumpled up empty sachets and gathered together all the used glass vials.

"Right," she said, pointing her wand at the toilet so the bright flames rose a little higher. The potion gurgled and fat bubbles popped to the surface. "We can leave it for a bit now. Shall we go see Harry?"

"I need some sleep first," Ron yawned and stretched, his bones cracking. Hermione acquiesed and they made their way out of the bathroom, ignoring Myrtles' sobs about how they could at least talk to her if they were using her toilets.

--

--

Harry was staring at Draco Malfoy, and he was not feeling very happy. They lay on their shared bed in the cold morning light, and Harry could hear the distant sounds of Madam Pomfrey bustling around in the main hospital room beyond. He had been awake for a little over twenty-four hours now and he was exhausted.

Draco, on the other hand, was fast asleep. Harry stared at him as he lay with his long eyelashes closed, his chest slowly rising and falling. He looked peaceful and rested, and Harry wanted to punch him. He had promised to stay awake with Harry while they searched for a cure, but now he had been asleep for over an hour. Harry was extremely tempted to wake him and moved to do so several times, but always stopped just before, feeling it would be cruel. Still, he was very annoyed.

More than anything else he wanted to move closer and fall asleep nestled in Malfoys' arms. He made to do this several times too - the blonde boy was so warm and inviting and looked so serene. But Harry would always draw back soon after, afraid of what might happen if he fell asleep.

Draco turned slightly in his sleep and sighed. A long fingered hand fell against Harry's wrist and curled around it, making his skin tingle and his heart pound.

"Malfoy," he whispered in a barely audible voice, hoping this might somehow wake him up. Harrys' eyelids felt heavy and his head was filled with a constant thick, fuzzy ache. He couldn't keep this up much longer. It had only been a day and already he was shattered. He couldn't possibly last for three entire weeks.

"Malfoy," he muttered again. "You're not being fair."

Finally, giving in to exhaustion, he settled down into the warm bed, throwing the covers over him and Draco. He trusted Draco to wake him if he was having a bad dream. Maybe if he got close enough to Malfoy the nightmares wouldn't be able to reach him. Maybe they were gone, anyway. Heart thudding, a slightly sick feeling in his mouth and head, he closed his eyes and wriggled as close to Draco as he could possibly get. The other boy unconsciously tightened his arms around Harry, who wrapped one arm around Draco's waist, the other clutching at a fistful of his shirt. He _hated_ this. It was mortifying how good it felt. He moaned softly and his breathing fell into a steady rhythm that matched his companions as slowly he drifted off to sleep.

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**A/N: **Dun dun duuuuuh! Next chapter tomorrow. Lady Sakura of the Fated - I love you :D **Please review**!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Nada. Zip!

**Rating: **T+

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Chapter 15

Three hours later, Draco was once again woken by the thrashing around and moaning of the boy in bed with him. He jolted awake, startled, and turned to check on Harry. The dark haired boys' face was bloodless and white, his scar an angry red on his forehead. His eyelashes were fluttering as he mumbled a string of unintelligible protests, his fists clenched so tight around the bed sheets his knuckles were turning white.

Draco groaned. "Potter!" he said loudly, shaking the unconscious boys shoulder. Harry struck out at him defensively.

"No…" he mumbled softly, "No - please…"

"Potter, come on - wake up," Draco took hold of Harrys' wrists to stop the struggling boy from lashing out at him, shaking him lightly. Harry strained against him, his eyelids flickering as he tried to escape whatever it was that plagued his dreams. "Wake up, Potter!"

Harry fought harder, struggling so much that Draco slipped. He could barely keep hold of the boy underneath him. Harry moaned and protested, and a sharp gasp of pain escaped him as a deep gash suddenly sliced into his temple and blood began to trickle down his face.

"No!" Harry cried, kicking out at Draco, thrashing and toppling them both off the bed and onto the cold stone floor. Draco winced and watched in horror as four horizontal slashes cut into Harrys upper arm and blood started to well up from them, flowing down his arm. Draco grabbed hold of Potter and pulled him as close and tight as he possibly could, shaking him. Harrys' scream of pain was muffled against Draco's chest.

"Wake up, Potter. Wake up. Please wake up!"

With a shuddering gasp, Potter snapped his eyelids open. He fought against Dracos grip, panting hard and trying to free himself, one hand grasping his arm as blood streamed over his fingers.

"Potter - stop it, hey, it's me!" Draco clung to him, not knowing how to calm Harry down. "It's alright, you were just having another nightmare."

Harry stared up at him, his breathing hard and uneven, his face tear-streaked. His eyes looked huge and fearful and he whimpered in pain as Draco moved forward to touch his arm. He jerked backwards, his gaze flickering between Malfoys' eyes.

"Draco?" he choked. Realisation seemed to flood into his eyes and he slumped against the blonde boy with a weak moan. The Slytherin boy reeled. _Draco_?

He stared down at the shuddering, bleeding boy in his arms. "I have to go and get Madam Pomfrey," he said softly.

"No," Harry whispered, his voice shaking. A weak cough rattled in his chest and he grasped helplessly at Draco's shirt, gasping for breath. Draco could feel damp warmth spreading through his shirt from tears and sweat. The floor was cold and hard. "No - please…"

"Potter, you're bleeding all over me! You need help!"

Shaking his head imperceptibly, Harry moaned. "Don't go," he implored faintly. "Not yet. I need…" He coughed, his throat hoarse and sore. A thin wire of sharp pain whipped across his arm. "Please… you can fix it."

"_Me_?"

"There's bandages… in the bathroom. Pomfrey left…"

Draco swallowed, his mind a blur, his heart pounding. He couldn't leave Potter alone, he needed contact too much. He didn't know what might happen if he left the room for even a moment. But he couldn't just sit here and let Potter bleed to death, either. He manoeuvred himself out from under Harry and pulled the blood soaked boy to his feet. Harry sagged against him, whimpering in pain as Draco half supported, half carried him out of their little room and across the dark corridor to the hospital wing bathroom.

Harry gritted his teeth, gasping as the blonde boy released him and sat him down on the edge of the bath. The bright white flames in the brackets stung his eyes and made the clean white tiles around him glitter. Blood dripped slowly onto the floor.

Draco stared up at him in the unnatural light. Harry was frighteningly pale, one hand still clamped tight around the wounds on his arm. He was shaking feverishly, his breathing irregular.

"Hold on," Draco muttered, releasing his charge temporarily to grab equipment from the large white cabinet that ran the length of the wall opposite. He pulled a soft flannel from the rack and ran it under the tap. The torches threw pale shadows across the room as he moved, his bare feet slipping on the blood-spotted tiles. He carefully pulled Harry's fingers away from the wound, wincing as Harry gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out. Then he gently peeled back Harry's red stained sleeve, his eyes widening at the abrasions underneath.

Four parallel gashes ran around the upper arm. The skin was torn and angry looking, and dark blood pooled around the deep wounds. It was bleeding less but it looked incredibly painful.

"What happened?" Draco breathed. He knelt before Potter, one hand on his knee to ensure contact, the other squeezing excess water out of the damp flannel onto the floor. He pressed it lightly to Harry's arm, who screwed his eyes closed and whimpered in pain.

"Same as before," he gasped, as Draco carefully cleaned blood from his injuries. "Someone… in robes. Attacked me. They had… something on their hands."

"What do you mean?"

"I - I don't know… I couldn't really see." Harry watched Draco as he unwrapped a clean white bandage and pressed it to the wound. He carefully lifted Harry's arm and wrapped the gauze around, tying it tight. Harry grimaced and shook his head. "It was dark. But… it was like…" he winced as Draco pressed the cloth to the cut on his face and then proceeded to clean the bloodstains off his hands and arms. "Like claws on their fingers," he finished quietly.

"Claws?" Draco frowned.

Harry nodded. "I couldn't get away," he said softly.

Sighing, the blonde boy cleared away the wrappers and mess they had created, pausing to wipe the flecks of red from the bathroom floor. The flames around them crackled, burning so white it hurt to look at them.

"Is that okay?" the Slytherin asked, nodding at Harry's bandaged arm. "I don't know if you lost too much blood, or…"

"It's fine," Harry whispered, his voice shaking and low. He looked up at Draco, his face pale, his eyes huge and bright. His bottom lip trembled slightly.

"I still think I ought to get Madam Pomfrey…" Draco trailed off as Harry shook his head.

"I don't want anybody to know."

"Why?"

Harry didn't reply, just gazed at him, his eyes shining. Draco took his hand from the pale boys knee and studied him thoughtfully. The floor felt cold and wet under him but he didn't want to move in case Harry got upset.

"Why on earth did you go to sleep?"

Harry looked away. He smoothed his bandages down with trembling fingers, wincing as his torn flesh stung and throbbed. "You promised you would stay awake with me," he mumbled. Tears shone in his eyes and he blinked fiercely at the ceiling.

"What?"

No answer. Draco watched him, thinking. Harry avoided his gaze, staring at the floor with dark, glittering eyes. He had promised…?

"Oh…" Harry looked at him reproachfully through a curtain of dark hair. "I fell asleep."

Harry swallowed and slowly, painfully pushed himself up off the edge of the bath. He swayed on the spot, blinking in the harsh white light. His shirt was dark with blood.

"Potter?"

"We can go back now," he said softly. Draco nodded and slowly he helped Harry make his way back to their little shared room. Here they stood in awkward silence, Harry holding his arm, watching Draco with shining eyes. Draco stared back at him, a strange sensation lapping uncomfortably at his insides. Guilt.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He had been lying on the bed, reading his book, while Harry trundled round the room putting shirts in drawers and textbooks on the table. Draco had felt his eyes growing heavier and heavier, his muscles aching pleasantly as he lay on the soft, warm covers. Eventually he had drifted off to sleep, and Potter had…

He sighed. "Potter," he said softly, but Harry held up a trembling hand to silence him, and turned away. His breathing was short and laboured and Draco thought he was about to cry.

Harry felt sick. His entire body hurt, his arm burned, his mind throbbed. His nerves felt jarred and shredded, he couldn't stop shaking. He was still exhausted, and he was frightened. The dream… he had been back in that cold white room with the darkness flickering in and out. The figure draped in black had advanced on him with terrifying, slow footsteps, robes trailing soundlessly over the empty white space. He had been backed against an unseen wall again, too afraid to run, unable to call out; and through the flickering darkness he had seen a hand withdrawn from black, lifeless robes, with pale fingers cased in cold steel tips that tapered to a shining point.

Harry shook his head, breathing deep, trying to block the image from his mind. It wasn't like a normal dream that faded when faced with reality. He could remember every detail in sharp, exact focus. The whisper of his name in the deafening silence. The drowning fear as dead hands gripped him and cold steel ripped into his skin. He turned away, rubbing his aching head, and lost his balance.

Draco darted forwards and caught him before he could hit the floor. Harry moaned and turned his face into the hollow of the taller boys' neck, breathing in the familiar scent, limp in his arms. Draco carefully tipped them backwards onto the bed, pulling Harry down with him so that he lay on the other boy, his eyes closed, his face pale. Draco could feel him shaking.

"You've lost a lot of blood," he said softly, pulling the covers round Harry to keep him warm. "You need rest."

"I _can't_," whispered Harry, fingernails digging weakly into the skin of Malfoys arm. His voice was low and choked with tears. Draco threaded his fingers through soft dark hair and held Harry while he fought against the despair that overwhelmed him.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, his voice a barely audible whisper. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"What am I going to _do_?"

Draco breathed a deep sigh and waited while Harry clung to him. He racked his brains as he lay in the half light, watching shadows move across the walls as the sun began to rise. If they didn't find a way to block his bad dreams soon, Potter was going to waste away. "I don't know," he said softly. Harry nuzzled into Draco's skin, his hair tickling the blonde boys face.

Slowly Potters breathing fell back into a steady rhythm. Draco rolled them both over to check he hadn't fallen asleep. His eyes were open; they lay side by side in silence, studying each other. Draco felt drained.

"Feel better?" he asked softly. Harry nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm so tired," he mumbled. For once Draco didn't want to punch him.

"We'll figure this out," he said reassuringly. "Weasley and Granger must have started the potion by now, it won't be long before it's finished. We'll find out who cast the spell."

"And then what?" Harry whispered dejectedly. He curled his fingers against Draco's, who linked them together and squeezed. Harry felt a soft wave of heat flicker through him.

"We'll find them and break it," said Draco.

"And what do we do until then?"

"We'll think of something."

Feeling oddly reassured, Harry wriggled closer, taking comfort from the warm body wrapped around him. His arm throbbed with a sharp, distant pain. He tilted his head upwards and gazed at the boy next to him, a strange instinct pushing at him and warring with his emotions.

"Draco…" he whispered. The other boy stared at him, his grey eyes warm, his lips soft looking; reason shut down entirely in Harry's brain and he closed the gap between them to press his lips gently against Draco's.

A few seconds passed, and neither boy moved - then Harry let out a soft sound of pleasure and kissed Draco more firmly, his eyelashes fluttering closed. Draco reeled, his astonished brain jammed to a halt at the feeling of Harry Potter's lips on his. Harry made the same soft moan and his fingertips brushed feather-light caresses against the skin of Draco's cheeks. A frightening sense of completion sent a warm, tingling wave washing through him.

Draco's sound of protest was lost in the kiss. He took hold of his wrists and gently pushed him away. "Woah," he said softly. Harry opened his eyes and they stared at each other, a faint blush painting the dark haired boys cheeks. His lower lip trembled as Draco gaped at him, trying to input what had happened in some sensible context his brain might understand.

"Potter…" he said quietly, his voice hoarse. Harry looked mortified. He pushed himself up off the bed, grimacing at the pain in his arm.

"Sorry," he said quickly, his cheeks reddening. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to, I just - it was just a mistake." He avoided Draco's eyes as the blonde haired boy sat up, staring at him. "Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed. He couldn't believe what he had just done. He had _kissed_ Draco Malfoy, voluntarily, of his own volition. He felt slightly sick, and panic spiked through his exhaustion. "I - I didn't mean to."

"Potter… what…?"

"I'm _sorry_, okay?" hissed Harry in a voice that clearly implied he wanted to drop the subject. Draco just stared at him. He felt like his whole world had just crumbled around him.

"Potter," he said quietly. "Do we need to talk about this?"

Harry turned and looked at him, looking exhausted and slightly nauseous. "Talk?" he repeated. "No. _No_."

What could he possibly say? Oh, I forgot to tell you Malfoy - the need for contact with you is starting to wear off but I'm afraid there might be some horrific side-effect to the curse where I'm becoming more and more attracted to you every day. Either that or I'm really just losing my mind. He laughed humourlessly. Pain prickled down his arm and across his chest.

"Forget it, Malfoy. It was just - a mistake. What with being around you all the time and needing you for… you know, I just - I just got confused. That's all. It's nothing." He gazed at Draco wide-eyed and thought how nice it would be if they could just lie back down and…

He shook his head firmly. "Just forget it," he said.

Draco studied him in silence for a moment, his face a picture of confusion. Then, finally, he relaxed back down on the bed, gazing up at his companion, and nodded.

"Alright," he agreed. "Forget it."

A/N: I dedicate this chapter of smooching to the wonderful **forevrlostinme**, the fantastical **Secluded Angel 33**, the brilliant **Knyghtshade**, the marvellous **Rika'sGrayWolf**, the fabulous **harry-potters-sister**, the sensational **Lady Sakura** and the hilarious **zZzQueen** - I loved your comment!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Nada. Zip!

**Rating: **T+

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Chapter 16

The next few days passed in a haze of exhaustion for Harry. Madam Pomfrey supplied him with frequent pepper-up potions and various concoctions to keep him alert; they worked for a few hours and then he always felt the same tired ache seeping into his bones, the constant humming fatigue clouding his mind. The students had been told he was recovering from an illness in St. Mungos; therefore he received no visitors except for daily visits from Ron and Hermione. Remus and Professor Dumbledore came by to check on him every few days.

As the hours dragged by he grew depressed, and then angry. He felt always on the edge of collapse, as though he just couldn't carry on without sleep for another moment. And then another minute would pass and he would still be there, frustrated and furious and upset. He withdrew from his friends, barely speaking when they tried to cheer him with news of the influence-revealing potions' progress. He knew he was being ungrateful and unfair, but what was happening to him was unfair, too. He just wanted to be able to sleep.

"What are you looking at?"

A voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he glanced over at Malfoy, sat on their bed, a book propped against his knees as usual. He was studying Harry, his head tilted slightly, his eyes tired looking but still bright and inquisitive. Harry tore his eyes away.

"Nothing," he mumbled, and went back to watching heavy raindrops fall against the narrow windowpane. Outside the cold February weather showed no signs of waning. The gentle patter of rain echoed throughout the small room, lit against the falling dusk by brightly burning flames flickering around the walls. Wind whistled around the castle eerily. Harry could feel Dracos' eyes on him but he ignored him.

Things between them now were tense, hesitant. Since that day Harry had temporarily lost his mind. They had both pretended to forget it but Harry certainly hadn't and he was quite sure Draco hadn't either. Every time he reached forward, needing to ease the fading itch inside him, Draco would tense up, as though he thought Harry was going to suddenly pounce, pin him down and ravage him.

Harry barely had the energy to stand. He spent the hours staring out of the window, waiting, while day slipped into night and night became grey, cold morning. And all the while the thought of his stolen kiss burned at Harry's insides and made his mouth tingle.

"You've been staring out of the window for ages."

Harry ignored him, but could feel the blonde boys eyes burning into him.

"Stop looking at me," he said softly. A faint pink tinge appeared on Draco's cheeks.

"I wasn't," he said defiantly.

Harry looked over at him. Draco sat leaning against the headboard, a small, tattered book in his hands. Errant strands of blonde fell into his grey eyes. Harry had seen those eyes change with Draco's emotions. Before now he had only ever seen his rival angry, sneering, cold; and those eyes had always been the same empty grey to him.

Now they were stormy and dark when Draco was troubled, and on the odd occasions he smiled they were clear and bright. Harry didn't know why but he savoured those moments, when they had been alone for hours and forgotten the outside world, they would lie side by side and Harry would see flashes of someone who wasn't just the Malfoy heir, but a teenage boy like him with fears and aspirations and slowly waning hope.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd own anything in that condition," he said tiredly, nodding at the shabby book in the Slytherins hands. Draco looked down at it. "I thought all the Malfoy books would be pristine and you couldn't read them unless you wore gloves."

Draco smiled wryly. "What, you think all the first-edition dark arts books from hundreds of years ago aren't a little frayed around the edges?"

"Suppose so."

It frightened him a little, this new attachment to somebody he had spent six years hating without a moment of variation. And he still did hate Malfoy… it was like two separate wires of loathing and desire twining around his heart, battling to see which would overwhelm him first. He simultaneously wanted to kick the hell out of Draco and curl up in his lap to fall asleep. He felt oddly safe in the company of the Slytherin boy. Draco had been the one to save him from his nightmares and sometimes when Harry caught himself staring into shadows in fear of what lay beyond them, imagining the hiss of his own name in the wind as the drapes at the window fluttered like lifeless black robes - he would turn slightly towards the boy beside him, secretly drawing comfort from his presence.

He sighed heavily, and a twinge of pain ran through the gashes on his arm. He had resolutely refused to tell Madam Pomfrey or anybody else about the new dream and subsequent injuries, covering his arm with long sleeved shirts and pulling his fringe down over the scrape on his temple. He was not sure why he didn't want anyone to know. Talking about it made it seem too real maybe, only Draco knew because he had been there at the time and Harry couldn't possibly deny it.

Rubbing his eyes, he slowly pushed himself up off the narrow window ledge and picked up a small glass vial from the bedside table. His next dosage of pepper-up. The liquid was a dusky orange with a spicy, clinical spell and he downed half of it before perching on the edge of the bed and handing the bottle over to Draco.

Madam Pomfrey had refused to supply Malfoy with his own batch of potions, insisting that just because Harry couldn't sleep there was no need for Draco to stay awake too. So they halved everything she gave to Harry. Draco took it with an absent smile and finished off the contents, grimacing.

"Disgusting."

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead inattentively while he waited for the potion to kick in. He scrunched his eyes closed and they stung and watered. The first stirrings of an energy boost lapped into his mind, temporarily cooling and clearing. He tilted his head back against the bed post and moaned.

"How many more days until the potion is finished?" he mumbled.

"Nine."

Harry slumped into the bedcovers, feeling ill.

"I can't last that long," he whispered.

"Me neither."

"What are we going to do?"

Draco was saved the necessity of having to think up an answer when a gentle knock sounded against the door and Hermione poked her head round nervously. Harry beckoned her in, followed by Weasley. Draco groaned.

"What do you want this time?" he asked waspishly. He was sick to death of the mudblood and Weasley, he had been subjected to their presence _every day _since they had started work on their bloody potion. Which probably wouldn't even work, he thought exasperatedly.

"We came to see Harry," said Ron coldly. "You're more than welcome to piss off, Malfoy."

"Oh good," Draco sneered, rising up off the bed. "I'll just leave Potter here to die then, shall I?"

Harry grabbed his arm and tugged him back down. Draco scowled at him, and threw Ron the dirtiest look he could muster.

"Hey guys," said Harry softly. Hermione took in his pale, drawn face and exhausted demeanour.

"We won't stay long," she said gently. "We just came to see how you were doing, and to tell you everything's going okay with the potion."

"I'm alright," said Harry tiredly, fed up of telling them this every day when he was really not alright. They always seemed to take heart from his answer, like they believed him. Draco could see through it in a second, he knew.

"Well you've satisfied yourselves that he's alive, so thanks for coming," said Draco sarcastically, waving a hand pointedly at the door.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Ron said through gritted teeth. Draco eyed his frayed knitted sweater with a wonky R stitched on in red thread, and his unkempt, awful ginger hair. He smirked superiorly, something he knew from many years experience drove the Weasel absolutely insane.

"I only signed up to suffer _Potters_' presence, Weasley. I have absolutely no need of two more idiotic Gryffindors and if I'd have known it meant socialising with the likes of you I doubt I would have agreed to this at all. My father would roll over in his grave if he could see the company I am keeping these days."

"Your father isn't dead," said Harry softly.

"Yes, but if he were."

Harry chuckled and Ron shot him a sharp glance.

"Your father is a murderer on the run from the law," said Hermione coldly. "I doubt he has any interest in what you're doing these days."

Draco rose furiously. "Don't you _dare_ suggest -" he began; but Harry kept a firm grip around his wrist and spoke before anybody else had chance.

"_Stop_ it, all of you." He held up a hand to silence his friends. "Ron - Hermione, please. I'm glad you came but - could you just… go? I'm alright, really. You should get back to the potion or something." He smiled tiredly, apologetically.

"You're taking his side?" demanded Ron.

"_No_. I just haven't had any sleep for god knows how many days and I'm a bit too tired to deal with your pathetic arguments," Harry said irritably. He could feel his forehead start to pound. "I know you hate it but Malfoy needs to be here and there's nothing anybody can do about it."

Draco smiled smugly at the two Gryffindors. Potter needed him, way more than he needed them.

"Don't think you've been ruled out as a suspect, Malfoy," Ron whispered dangerously as he left the room, Hermione tailing behind. Draco scoffed.

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**A/N:** Big big thanks and love to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! **harry-potters-sister, meg, dreamweaver26, Secluded Angel 33, Lady Sakura, RGW, forevrlostinme, luckycharm9, Dezra**… I can't tell you how much it makes me squee when I get a little review popup on my email account, it makes my day :D So thank you!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Me no owny.

**Rating: **T+

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Chapter 17

Draco Malfoy was very, very tired. Tired actually didn't even cover it. His brain felt like it was being slowly wrung out by an iron fist and replaced with nothing but an empty, buzzing ache. It had been a week and a half since Harrys last nightmare, a week and a half since he had managed anything more than twenty minutes sleep per day. Natural resilience and a mixture of potions from Madam Pomfrey made it possible, but they certainly didn't make it pleasant. He found his reactions beginning to slow, it took slightly longer for his mind to click into place and figure things out, and always there was a constant ache of exhaustion pulsating in his bones. Sometimes when Harry was being questioned and probed by Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore, he would sneak fifteen minutes sleep until his turn, but it was fitful and did nothing to calm his unrest.

But he knew he was dealing with the situation a lot better than Potter. As the hours faded into each other he watched Potter sitting at the windowsill, staring out unseeingly at the relentless rain and sleet. He refused food and the comfort of others. Dark shadows circled his eyes, the bright green diminished to a dark, vacant shade. The slashes on his skin had started to heal but a defeated aura emanated from him, he seemed to be slowly slipping out of reach. Maybe twice a day he would get up and fold himself into Draco's lap, curled up and drawing comfort from the contact with the blonde haired boy. The prickly, burning need to touch Draco had faded considerably, but Draco wasn't entirely sure this was a good thing. What was going to keep Potter going once the feeling of relief and comfort disappeared entirely?

Well… there was always that thing. That thing that Harry had done, which seemed to have satisfied him somewhat. That thing where he had…

Draco grimaced. Potter had _kissed_ him. And although afterwards he had blamed it on confusion and stress and god knows what else, and asked Draco to please forget about it… he couldn't quite shake the memory of Harry Potter in his arms, the smell and feel of him pervading all of Draco's senses. And then he had leaned upwards, and…

It was wrong. It was so very, very catastrophically wrong. It was _Potter_, the very embodiment of Draco's hatred and disdain. Draco hated that it had happened, it made him feel sick. And yet there was something so inexplicably intoxicating about the idea, that Potter might need him so much he needed even to do _that_. And the experience itself had been… disturbing. It had felt offensive and it had made him panic, but it had been so full of heat, like all the emotions and feelings of their situation poured into one single, intense moment. It brought a warm flush to Draco's cheeks when he thought about it.

He shook his head, as if to shake away all the unpleasant thoughts, and accidentally caught Potters eye. Sitting at the window as usual, they gazed at each other for a moment before Harry averted his eyes, blushing. Draco frowned. He wasn't stupid, and he didn't like where this was leading. The shy glances, the flush of colour on the dark haired boys pale skin, the way Potters fingers curled around his when they lay together. It was all adding up to something Draco couldn't quite grasp, but it worried him. Was this some unforeseen side effect of the curse? Not that any of it had been expected, but… definitely not this. They still knew absolutely nothing about the spell that had been cast on Harry, who had cast it, what all the effects were, if there was a cure. Maybe Harry was more under its influence than any of them knew, if it was creating emotions inside him that went against six years of nothing but hatred. Either that or the beginnings of the feelings Draco suspected were inventions purely of Harry's own mind, which was even more disturbing.

He sighed and wriggled into a more uncomfortable position, lying on the bed with his head on his arms. It was risky to get too cosy, it inevitably led to the pull of sleep taking over him.

As well as the exhaustion and concern it was difficult to combat boredom. Being awake every moment of every day without being able to indulge in any activities that might lead to separation or fatigue was getting on his nerves. He knew the student body had been told Potter was recovering from an illness in St. Mungos, but as to what they knew about his whereabouts, he had no idea. Most of them were probably hoping he had died. Madam Pomfrey told him irritably that Pansy Parkinson had tried to storm the hospital wing twice, demanding to see him. He was relieved she had been turned away.

Bars of weak sunlight shining through the heavy clouds outside streamed through the high, narrow windows, illuminating stripes of the dark stone and showing dust drifting in the warm air around them. It was early afternoon, and rain tapped occasionally against the window pane. The room was comfortable and cosy thanks to burning torches and warming pans between the bed sheets and under cushions. Flecks of rain cast small dancing reflections of colour through the glass, scattered around the room. Draco thought it would be very pleasant if it wasn't for the circumstances that had brought them there.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked softly, the ghost of a smile on his face as he repeated Draco's earlier words back at him. Draco looked up at him, curled up on the window ledge, leaning against the glass. He looked tired, helpless and small. It inspired no malice or satisfaction in Draco.

"Lots of things," he replied. "Most of them too complex for you to understand, Potter."

Harry smiled ruefully. "Can I come over?" he whispered.

Draco sighed, nodding. He scooted over slightly on the bed as Potter tiredly rose from the sill and tumbled onto the bed, fitting perfectly into Draco's embrace. The blonde boy wrapped his arms around the small, warm body and waited. Harry curled his fingers around the fabric of Draco's shirt, breathing in the comforting scent, his head buried in Draco's chest. The relieving calm washed through him, rousing him. He took a few deep breaths as rain began to drum more heavily against the castle.

--

At the farther end of the school, high in the Gryffindor tower, Ron and Hermione were sitting alone in the crowded common room. The cold weather and rain meant that most students were relaxing indoors, playing chess or writing out homework, but Harrys friends declined Nevilles' offer of a game of exploding snap and seated themselves in a shadowy, vacant corner of the room.

Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly, the tiny print on the book in front of her blurring momentarily. Ron stared gloomily out of the window, the empty Quidditch pitch just visible through the rain.

"What's the next step?" he asked. Hermione was studying the titleless potions volume, checking over the list of ingredients for the fourteenth time.

"We leave it to stew for four days now," she replied. "And then it gets a bit more complicated. We need something called… ashtavarga. It's a medicinal plant, but Snape doesn't have it in his store room so I'm not sure how we can get a hold of it."

"Diagon Alley?" suggested Ron. "Mail order?"

"Maybe. We'll have to owl them."

Wind howled around the eaves of the tower and the fire burning in the large fireplace flickered and danced. The rain poured down harder. Ron yawned.

"Shall we go see Harry again today?"

Hermione frowned. She closed the heavy book in her lap with a dusty thud, and scanned the noisy occupants of the room thoughtfully. Someone was practising hexes and every now and then a crackle of pink sparks would shoot upwards, followed by a loud cheer.

"I don't know," she said softly. "Doesn't he seem a little bit…"

"A little bit what?"

"I don't know," she repeated. She looked at Ron hesitantly, not wanting him to jump down her throat. "I'm not sure he really wants any company right now."

Ron stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flickering between hers. Then he slumped against the window frame with an sigh.

"I know," he said unexpectedly. Hermione blinked at him. An eruption of bright lights whistled across the ceiling and showered down towards them, evaporating just above their heads. Ron pulled absently at the loose threads of his maroon sweater. "It's like he's already given up, isn't it?"

"He's just… going through a lot," Hermione said gently. "He thought - we all did - that with Voldemort gone, everything would be alright, he could start living a normal life." She smiled sadly. "But it's never going to be like that, is it? Now there's this whole new thing that he doesn't understand, he doesn't know how to fight. It's draining the life out of him and he doesn't know how to stop it. But we _will_ find a way," she finished firmly, and opened the book before her with fresh determination, starting to read through the potion procedure for the fifteenth time. Ron smiled fondly at her, before turning back to stare out of the window at the unyielding downpour of rain.

--

The drumming of water against the castle was a soothing sound in the warm little hospital room. Harry and Draco sat in silence, not touching, listening to the weather outside. A loud crack of thunder whipped across the already darkening sky.

"I love storms," Draco said softly.

"Me too," Harry agreed. He reached out a tentative hand and placed it on top of Draco's pale fingers. Draco cast him a slanted glance, his blonde hair lit with golden hues from the dancing flames on the wall. He did not withdraw his hand, and they sat gazing out of the window as the storm gathered strength around them.

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**A/N: **A bit shorter I know, sorry! I think this is going to become a theme from now on - maybe one chapter in the week but mostly I'll be posting at weekends. Damn work getting in the way.

If anyone is interested… ashtavarga really is a group of rare medicinal plants. All the specific names didn't sound right so I just went with the collective name :P

And now on to the most important part, the thankyous! **xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, wolf, harry-potters-sister, Twinfetish, Dezra, luckycharm9, Secluded Angel 33, forevrlostinme, Rika'sGrayWolf**, and of course the ever wonderful **Lady Sakura**. You guys are the awesomest, thank you so much for your reviews!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. It makes me sad :(

**Rating: **T+

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"It feels like the whole castle is empty," said Harry quietly. His head was starting to hurt and he hoped Madam Pomfrey would be checking in soon with their nightly dose of restorative potions.

Night was approaching. Draco studied the smaller boy in the gathering shadows as the torches sputtered in their brackets and dark clouds stood out against the black blanket of night outside. Rain still pattered against the window, and the shutters rattled in their holds against the driving wind. Apart from the weather there was silence all around them.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's just so quiet. It feels like we're the only ones here, like we're completely cut off."

Draco smiled ironically. "We are."

It had been an hour or so since Harry had moved to sit on the shared bed with his companion, and he hadn't moved. His hand still lay on top of Draco's, fingers curled around the blonde boys' paler digits. He didn't want to go back over to the window ledge. His eyes blurred over with exhaustion and his mind and body ached. His hold on Draco's hand tightened, trying to gain security from the touch, but nothing happened except a dull sensation constricting his heart. He sighed.

"I always thought," he said softly, gazing at the shadowy stone floor, "That if I managed to defeat Voldemort, then maybe I could… _finally_… start living my life the way I wanted to." He smiled bitterly, and the first pinpricks of tears stung at the backs of his eyes. "I thought with him gone, if I ever found a way to stop him… then that would be it. I just wanted to live a _normal_ life, you know? And - and now this…" He bit his lip and Draco watched as his eyes began to sparkle with tears, his lower lip trembling. "It just keeps coming," he whispered, his voice breaking and stuttering over the words. A wave of despair enveloped him and he blinked hard, trying to push the tears away.

"You're not the only one to have suffered, Potter," said Draco distantly.

"I _know_ that, Malfoy." Harry pulled his hand away at last. He let out a harsh, humourless laugh and exhaustedly wiped a tear from his face. "Forget it. I forgot who I was talking to for a minute there."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… you've been through a lot of stuff but you've always had people there to suffer with you. I can't imagine why but you've got a lot of people that care about you. It's not like you know what it's like to really be alone."

"And you do?"

Draco didn't answer. He gazed unseeingly at the bedcovers. He never really knew what to do when Potter got upset. Angry he could deal with, and silent, and on the odd occasion Harry was cheerful he could even cope with that. But the Potter he knew was a fighter, and seeing him so defeated all the time… it was disconcerting. He was fading right before Draco's eyes.

The distant sound of movement came from beyond their bedroom wall. Draco could hear the muffled thud of footsteps; it sounded like someone heading for the bathroom. He had never really thought about it but now he supposed there must be patients behind some of the other doors that led from the dark corridor outside. More hopeless cases. Were they as bad as Potter, or worse?

"You hear that?" he asked quietly. Potter nodded, his throat tight. "Guess we're not alone after all, Potter." Harry looked up at him, his eyes shining. Draco reached forward and closed his fingers around Potters wrist, tugging him over. They lay down side by side. "The situation looks pretty hopeless from here but you've still got all those people to suffer with you. You're still not really alone."

Harry blinked, taken aback by Draco's words. He always thought there was nothing behind that cool stare than cold indifference and a mind that calculated how everything around him could be used to his advantage. But now, it seemed otherwise. Malfoy could be thoughtful, reflective… even inadvertently kind at times. He thought about how Draco had helped him, and about Ron and Hermione, Remus, Dumbledore and Pomfrey, who were all still helping him, and his chest tightened painfully. It all seemed so hopeless. He wriggled closer, ducking his head so that the other boy couldn't see him, his eyes burning with tears.

"They're not going to find a cure though, are they?" he whispered brokenly. No amount of good will and support from his friends was going to break the curse, and he was still alone in this, he was still going to slip further away and maybe even die unless by some miracle they discovered a way to help him. He didn't know what this spell entailed, he could be killed at any moment. The comfort from his friends seemed painfully out of reach.

"Of course they will," said Draco robustly. He squeezed Harrys' shoulder reassuringly. "They'll find something - just in the nick of time. That's how it works, Potter, it's not exciting enough unless help arrives just in the nick of time."

Harry shook his head, and a quiet sob escaped him. "I'm so scared," he whispered, his voice choked.

Draco sighed and wrapped his arms tight around the shaking boy. He thought about how wonderful this would all have seemed a couple of weeks ago; Harry Potter on the verge of tears, losing hope and running out of time, honestly frightened. Now it just seemed horrible. He wanted it to stop. He rested his chin on the top of Potters head, breathing in the smell of the wild dark hair that tickled his face, and held Potter in silence while the Gryffindor struggled not to cry.

"It'll be alright, Potter," he said quietly.

Harry shuddered and raised his head slightly, their eyes meeting. Draco looked at Harry, fear and desolation clouding his eyes, his face streaked with tears. Harry looked at Draco, biting his lip, concern flickering across his face. Harry felt the familiar, frightening wave of desire rising inside him and he shook his head slightly, trying to clear his mind. It did no help as it made Draco tighten his grip, holding him close and making him feel that little bit safer and more secure even as fingers dug into the wounds on his arm and made him wince. They gazed at each other as the storm raged outside and finally Harry could take it no longer, he pressed close to the warm boy next to him and tilted his head slowly upwards to place a soft, hesitant kiss on Draco's lips.

The door to their little dormitory opened with a resounding snap and the two boys wrenched apart with echoed gasps, adrenaline crashing through them. Draco jerked upright. Ron and Hermione stood in the doorway, Hermione looking surprised and Ron looking like he had had a lobotomy. His mouth hung open and he stared at them with a look of nothing short of horror on his face. The sight of Harry and Malfoy doing _that _was something he could easily have gone his entire life without seeing.

"Um… hi," said Hermione weakly. "Is this a bad time?"

"Of course it is, Granger," snapped Draco. His pulse raced and he could hear the roar of his heart beating in his ears. "It's always a bad time when you visit, why don't you take your little ginger friend there and sod off back to wherever you came from?"

"Draco," said Harry quietly, and everyone stared at him for using Draco's first name. He rubbed self-consciously at his face with the back of his hand, wiping away tears. He sat up slowly, avoiding the eyes of his friends.

"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione gently. Ron was glaring at Draco like he was trying to murder him on the spot using just his eyes. Draco stared back at him, feigning cold indifference. Harry shrugged.

"I'm fine."

"We could come back later…?"

"It's _fine_." He looked up at her hopefully, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Have you found something?"

Ron's eyes flicked back to him and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Hermione shuffled on the spot.

"Ah - well, not exactly. We've hit a bit of a roadblock with the potion…"

Harry's eyes widened and unthinkingly he leaned back against the warm body next to him. Draco placed a comforting hand on the small of his back and glared up at Granger menacingly.

"What do you mean, a roadblock?"

"There's an ingredient we need… a plant… something called ashtavarga," said Ron. "But it isn't in Snape's store room and we can't get hold of it in Diagon Alley or anywhere like that either."

"Ashtavarga?" repeated Draco.

"Yeah. We need to add the leaves to the potion in four days time, but… nowhere seems to supply it."

"It's a really rare plant," Draco said, ignoring Ron and Hermione, looking at Harry. "Very valuable. It has a lot of associations with the dark arts, too."

"You know about it?" asked Hermione. Draco nodded. "Well we owled Knockturn Alley too but not even the dodgy apothecary there will sell it to us."

"I know a place where we can get it," Draco said quietly.

Harry looked up at him, his eyes huge and hopeful. "You do?"

"But it isn't sold by any apothecaries -"

"I'm not talking about an apothecary, Weasley," he snapped. Ron glared at him. He looked from Weasley, to Granger, to Harry; and spoke to the dark haired boy beside him, his fingers playing absently with the bed sheets. Harry gazed up at him, not blinking, barely breathing. "My father has a greenhouse in the Malfoy formal gardens. He doesn't take care of it himself obviously, someone does it for him, but… a lot of plants grow there. Dangerous ones, rare herbs… all sorts. Ashtavarga, too."

"In the Malfoy Manor?" whispered Hermione.

"Yeah."

"How the hell are we going to get into there?" said Ron.

"I do live there, Weasley," retorted Draco. "I can't imagine it will be too difficult."

"But… you can't go," Hermione stared at him. "You can't leave Harry. And besides, maybe it is your house but your family are on the run. There could be anything happening in their home, what if there's traps there or something? It's too dangerous."

"Who else is going to go, you?" asked Draco. "If I might get caught by a trap set for my parents then you definitely will. I at least know my way around. And if you don't get ambushed or something, you'll get lost. The formal gardens are huge."

"But you can't," Harry said softly, looking up at him through a curtain of dark hair, a slight pink flush painting his cheeks. He reached out and placed a slightly trembling hand on Draco's arm, his eyes wide and imploring. "I… you can't go… I need you here."

Draco sighed and gently pulled Harry's fingers away from his arm. "What other choice have we got?"

"But you said yourself you didn't even think this potion would work!"

"What -?" began Ron, but Draco shot him a glare that shut him up for once. He tried to reason with Harry.

"And what if it does, Potter? What is the alternative - stay here until you waste away, or fall asleep and get killed? I want out of this just as much as you do, it's the only option we have!"

Harry gazed up at him, biting his lip, feeling hurt.

"W-what if… something happens... What if I need you while you're gone?"

"It won't take me long. A day, maximum. You can last for a day, I know you can."

Harry shook his head. "I can't - I can only go half a day. At the most. Draco - please, you can't leave -"

"You want them to finish this potion, don't you?"

"Y-yes… but…"

"Then we don't have a choice." Draco sighed and edged an inch closer to Harry, trying to reassure him. He placed a hand hesitantly on the other boys arm. It felt strange - normally Potter was the one doing this stuff. He didn't look into Harry's eyes, but instead spoke looking down at the place where they touched, feeling Harry's gaze burning into him. "Potter, your entire life might be resting with this revealing potion, and they can't make it unless they have that plant. I'm the only one who stands a chance of getting into that greenhouse. I have to go."

"He's right," Hermione said softly. "We can watch over you while he's gone, make sure you don't fall asleep."

"But -"

"When will you go?" asked Ron, looking at Malfoy with a strange expression.

"No time like the present, I suppose. I'll go tonight. Hopefully I can go and come back before Pomfrey or anyone notices my absence."

Harry's friends nodded. They backed out of the room, promising to return in a few hours when Draco was ready to leave. Hermione gave him an odd look and nodded towards Harry, which Draco took to mean he was supposed to use their alone time to comfort and try to reassure Potter. The door clicked shut behind them and the blonde haired boy could feel Potter staring at him with those huge eyes sparkling with tears. He sighed and flipped open the lid of his trunk, preparing to depart.

--

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**A/N: **Eeeek! I heart new developments. More angst to come in the next chapter... what can I say? I'm just a sucker for Vulnerable!Harry :D

Eternal flames of undiluted love for **Rika'sGrayWolf**, **Lady Sakura**, **forevrlostinme**,** Dezra **and** luckycharm9**.**  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. It makes me sad :(

**Rating: **T+

**A/N: **I hate real life. I've been looking forward to doing this chapter!

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Chapter 19

Half an hour later Draco had what he considered the bare essentials packed into his satchel. A couple of small Dark Detectors he had stolen from his fathers study a long time ago, a small, conical glass vial he had taken from Madam Pomfreys supplies room in which he was going to store the Ashtavarga leaves, and a few simple potions also taken while the matrons back was turned. Food he could take from the Malfoy gardens. His wand was tucked safely into the pocket of his jeans. He had been tempted to take a change of clothes but didn't want to alarm Harry into thinking he might be gone for over a day. He sincerely hoped it would not take that long.

He straightened up and fastened the straps of his bag into place. Potter had not spoken a word since Weasley and Granger had left, he had barely moved from his position on the bed. He sat absent-mindedly playing with the cuff of his sleeve, his legs crossed, staring down at his hands unseeingly. His eyes were dark and bruised, his skin pale. Draco carefully took a seat beside him on the bed and waited.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, continuing to fiddle with the fabric of his sweater. Then he spoke in a quiet, shaking voice.

"Let me come with you."

Draco sighed. "You're not well, Potter. You'd get sick, you'd hold me back."

"I could _help_."

"You can barely do anything without exhausting yourself. What help do you think you might be?"

Draco didn't mean it to come out so harsh, and he sighed again as Harry blinked back tears and turned away from him, his breath catching. He reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Harry's arm, feeling the dark haired boy shaking under his touch.

"I won't be gone long, Harry," he said softly, the name feeling strange on his tongue. "I'll be back before you know it." When there was no answer he added in only a half-joking voice "I would've thought you'd be thrilled at the prospect of some time away from me."

Harry turned to look up at him through a dark curtain of hair. A faint blush painted his cheeks and Draco was struck by just how very vulnerable he was. There had never been anybody so completely at his mercy. If he was determined enough he could just get up and walk away from this little room forever - and who knew what would happen to Potter if he did? He would undoubtedly start to suffer unbearable pain after the twenty-four hour mark, and as time went on… he might go mad, he could slip into a coma, even die. They had no idea just how dependant on Draco he was to stay alive. Such responsibility frightened the blonde haired boy a little.

"What?" Harry asked softly, as Draco studied him thoughtfully. The Slytherin shook his head and leaned forward to press his forehead against Harry's momentarily.

"I was thinking," he said quietly. "How it makes you feel better when we're like this. Why would somebody ever make that a factor in the curse? If they wanted to curse somebody, why would they create such an effective method of relief - for pain, fear, everything? It doesn't make sense. Unless…" he bit his lip and paused. Harry looked up at him questioningly. "Unless it's really just making you worse."

Rain began to patter once again against the dark, narrow window. The sky was dark and starless, the lamps guttering slightly as the wind found its way through the cracks in the castles stone walls. It was still only nine o'clock, it would be dark for another eleven or twelve hours yet.

Harry stared at him for a moment, his eyes searching. He pulled away and looked around the room as if hoping to see answers hidden in the fire and stone. He shook his head.

"I don't think so," he said hoarsely. "It doesn't feel that way. When we're… it's the only thing that stops me feeling tired, worried… everything. It doesn't feel like it's hurting me." He flushed slightly and swallowed, avoiding Draco's eyes. "It feels nice."

Draco couldn't quite fight back the smirk that flickered across his face. Harry saw this and nudged him, rolling his eyes in embarrassment. "Shut up," he mumbled.

Draco grinned teasingly, glad to see a weak smile light Harry's face for the first time since he couldn't remember when. He felt better about his next suggestion.

"I was also thinking," he said, watching Potter take up fiddling with his sleeve again, his cheeks pink. He reached out unthinkingly and pushed a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes, wanting to see the Gryffindors' reaction to his idea. "That when people go away for a while they stock up on the thing they need most, right?" Harry nodded, and a distant rumble of thunder sounded from far beyond the castle boundaries. It felt cosy here in their warm little room, safe from the weather, sharing lamp light and body warmth. "And what you need the most is me. Well, _this _-" he raked a hand slowly through dark, messy hair and Harry shuddered, his eyelashes fluttering. "So before I go maybe I ought to… you know. Make sure you've got enough supplies to last you while I'm gone." He looked at Harry meaningfully, who blinked up at him.

"What?"

"Well what's the thing that makes you feel the most secure, the thing that lasts the longest?"

Harry's eyes widened and he stared at Draco as though he was sure he must have the wrong idea.

"W-well… it's when you - when we… _you know_."

"Kiss?"

Harry stared resolutely down at the floor and nodded, blushing fiercely. Draco watched him, his heart beginning to pound. This was purely a safety precaution, he wanted Potter to still be in one piece when he got back with the vital ingredient for the potion. But all the same… he was a little bit nervous.

"So," he said softly. He reached out and gently lifted Harry's chin, watching the confusion and alarm flicker across his face. Rain beat steadily against the glass and coupled with the flickering lamplight seemed to give everything an unreal glow. Or maybe it was just the extraordinary circumstances. "Maybe… before I go, to make sure you last a little bit longer, we ought to…?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his eyes flickering between Draco's as though looking for something that was trying to catch him out. He reached out cautious fingers and ran a feather light touch across the blonde boys' jaw.

"W-what - are you… are you sure?" he hesitated. Thunder rumbled outside, louder this time and followed by a flash of clear lightning.

Draco nodded. "Seems wise, don't you think?"

Harry nodded and inched imperceptibly closer, gazing up at Draco with dark, hungry eyes. Draco took a deep breath, pushing every doubt and objection out of his mind and moving closer to wrap his arms around the dark haired boy. They fell back into the bedcovers, Draco on top and Harry underneath, his fingers curling into the fabric of Draco's shirt, his breath quickening at the feeling of Draco's warm body against his, pressing him into the mattress.

"M-Malfoy… Draco, I -"

"Harry, be quiet," Draco said softly. "Close your eyes."

His eyes immediately flew open and he gazed up at Draco for a few seconds, looking utterly lost and incredibly turned on. His eyes slowly fluttered closed.

Draco looked at him for a few moments, wanting to do it before his courage failed him but still slightly afraid to take this huge leap. He closed his eyes, focusing on how nice it felt to run his fingers over warm skin and feel Harry's trembling body beneath him. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly against Harry's.

The other boy let out a soft whimper and his hold on Draco tightened, his fingers gripping tightly. An overwhelming feeling he couldn't place washed over Draco and he rolled them both over onto their sides, pulling Harry sharply in and kissing him deeply and slowly as thunder cracked across the sky outside.

"Draco…" Harry moaned, kissing him back, his lips soft. Draco's arm encircled Harry's slender waist, his hand running soothingly over his sides. He stroked fingers through dark hair with the other hand. It felt soft and wild to the touch and Draco led the kiss nervously, Harry trembling slightly in his arms, submitting entirely. It felt wonderful to have the blonde boy so close, kissing him properly after so much tension and so many fleeting touches. A moan slipped from Draco's lips and was muffled against a warm mouth as Harry bucked upwards and their hips met. Harry held him tight and wrapped his arms tight around Draco, breathing hard and indulging in the feeling of tingling skin and real, stark emotions spiking through the fog of his exhausted mind for the first time in ages. He let out a whimper and kissed Draco harder, clinging to him.

Draco kissed him back, waiting for the desperation in Harry to subside until they were just lying side by side, looking into each others eyes, one of them closing the gap every few moments to kiss the other softly and briefly. Harry's cheeks were pink and Draco's eyes were bright, he felt something stirring in him and then a mental click as everything seemed to suddenly slot into place.

"Weasley and Granger will be here soon," he said quietly.

Harry sighed and reached up to brush smooth blonde hair out of dark eyes. He nodded.

"Okay."

They slowly pulled apart. Harry sat up, crossed his legs and gazed out of the window, watching the storm and avoiding Draco's eye. Draco slipped off the bed and went back to fiddling aimlessly with the contents of his bag, merely wanting to stay busy. The air was awkward, intense. Rain pounded against the window pane and he could see a line of trees rising up from the ground outside, struggling to remain upright in the storm, their branches swaying. He wished he didn't have to leave.

He felt strange. The shock of loss when Harry slipped out of his arms had been disconcerting, the feel of the kiss before had been something he truly had not expected. Before he could think it over there was a tap at the door and Potter's friends peered into the room. He hoisted a smirk onto his face and filed everything away carefully for later examination.

"Ready to go?" asked Granger charily.

He nodded, pulling on his coat and picking up the satchel. Lightning splintered across the sky, a bolt of bright yellow light. He thought about lightning and lightning scars and turned to Harry, their eyes locking and his heart freezing.

"You'll be okay?" he said flatly.

Harry smiled tiredly. "Yeah."

"You know what you're looking for, where to find it?" asked Ron, looking at him with careful scrutiny.

"Yes."

"I swear to god, Malfoy - if you mess this up -"

"Save it, Weasley," Draco snapped. He pulled the bag onto his shoulder and, after a faltering glance in Harry's direction, left the room without another word.

--

Harry gazed at the door as it creaked slowly closed, listening to careful footsteps treading down the hall until they were muffled by the storm. Maybe it was his imagination but he felt like the steadily building desire to touch Draco was already stirring inside him. Ron dropped a hand onto his shoulder and he noted with a numb, distant realisation that the contact didn't burn his skin the way it had in the beginning. His mind flipped wearily back to Remus, running a hand through his hair reassuringly however many days ago that had been. All the days bled into each other lately. He pulled away from Ron's touch and lay down on the bed, turned away from his friends. He closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion gathering in black clouds at the edges of his mind.

"He'll be alright," said Hermione softly from behind him.

His throat tightened and he gripped fistfuls of the bed sheet in his hands, feeling deserted and alone.

"He better be," he whispered.

--

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**A/N: **:D Is there anything better than slash in a thunderstorm?

Thankyou thankyou thankyou and eternal love to **harry-potters-sister**,** meg**,** Secluded Angel 33**,** Sakura **(a lobotomy is an operation to remove parts of your brain :P) **RGW**, **forevrlostinme**, **luckycharm9, SkyeEyesSparkle7135**, **Nagini Potter** and most especially **Medicinal Biscuit **because your wonderful, far-too-kind review really cheered up my crappy day ;D Thanks my lovelies.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. It makes me sad :(

**A/N: **Really been looking forward to this chappy :D It's difficult to keep it all going when the scenario never changes and the boys are always stuck in their little honeymoon suite, so a change of scenery equals yay. New descriptions! Adjectives ahoy!

Also I'm sorryyyy but my chapter-posting might be a tiny bit less often than usual till the end of August, because I'm a moderator on the best HP forum in the world, darkmark . com, and we're currently in the middle of the annual house cup - where I am leading Slytherin house into victory for the third year running :D I'll try to keep on top of things though!

This chapter is a little bit short but there'll be another one pretty much straight after.

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Chapter 20

Rain fell heavily upon the muddy ground as Draco squinted through the wintry darkness towards the tall iron gates of the grounds. He had managed to navigate his way through the castle with surprisingly few incidents given that it was still before the older students' curfew. He stuck to the shadows mostly, waiting for people to pass until darting down corridors and stairways, heading for the front doors. He was not entirely sure why he was so eager to remain concealed from the rest of the students, perhaps because he hadn't really formed an excuse yet as to his lengthy absence, and he was not sure what to say if somebody stopped him to ask where he was going. There had been a narrow episode when he had nearly walked straight into Peeves on the second floor, only darting behind a stone pillar in the nick of time. He waited, barely breathing, listening to the poltergeist cackle as he fulfilled whatever tonight's plans for chaos were, then let out a shallow sigh of relief at the telltale swoop of air as Peeves flew through the wall and out of sight.

He reached the gates flanked with winged stone boars, blinking up at them through the rain and watching lightning crack across the sky above. His clothes were already soaked and he slipped in the watery grass, trying to remain upright. Wind howled in his ears.

He pushed open the heavy gates with a piercing, wet squeak and slipped through the gap. Casting a final glance back at the school lit from within by the warm orange glow of fireplaces and lamplight, he turned sharply on the spot and Apparated out of sight.

--

He landed with a hard thud on dry, cold ground. His family home was in the south of England, where the weather was a lot less cruel than the Scottish mountains where Hogwarts was situated. It was not raining, though the air was still bitingly cold. He pulled himself to his feet, wincing, his feet crunching on the frosty grass verge which bordered the path leading up to the Malfoy Manor. Skeletal trees lined the road, bending in the cold wind which sent dead leaves scattering across the dark, deserted path. He pulled out his wand and muttered a drying spell, casting it about his clothes.

Like Hogwarts, it was impossible to Apparate directly inside the manor. He would have to enter the house and make his way through to the gardens, praying there were no traps or ambushes set for unsuspecting Malfoys.

Draco gazed through the polished wrought-iron gates, up at the foreboding gothic mansion that was his home. An elegant, dark mass of spiralling towers and turrets, black as the dark winter sky surrounding it, set apart from the rest of the world by acres and acres of private land. A tangle of emotions knitted through Dracos' mind at the sight of it. Relief to have the ashtavarga plant within his grasp, warmth and fondness at being back at the place where he spent a pampered childhood (before Daddy had sent him out into the world and come to realise what a terrible failure he was.) Happy emotions mixed with concern for the unknown, and the slightest drop of fear at what he might find inside the manor. What if his parents had tried to return - and something had happened to them, trapped them… killed them? He was anxious for Harry's sake too, and in a state of confused denial over what had happened before he left.

That kiss. It had started out as a genuine way of ensuring Potter might last a little longer while he was gone. He did not to want to go to all this trouble and upon his return discover it had all been for nothing, that Harry had died from the pain of separation. Draco shuddered at the thought, and the cold wind nipped at the bare skin of his hands and face. He pulled his coat tighter around him. He had only wanted to keep Potter steady for as long as he possibly could. Then it had all gotten… out of hand.

He hadn't expected it. When Potter kissed him before it had been startling, unforeseen. He had pushed the Gryffindor away without even considering another option because kissing just wasn't what they _did_. They were sworn enemies and sworn enemies did not get so worryingly intimate. It went against every argument, every fight, every drop of hatred and malice they had ever shared. Then the situation had changed and such intimacy had become necessary for Harrys survival. When Draco had nervously pressed his lips to Harry Potters he had not expected it to feel so good. He had tried to be a little bit seductive, to make Potter consent with more willingness, but the kiss had turned the situation into something truly seductive. They had not discussed it but he knew Harry was becoming emotionally attached to him - whether as a side-effect from the curse or not, he didn't know. He was probably just half mad from the spell and lack of sleep. But Draco himself… what was his excuse for the dizzy heat and surge of desire that had streamed through his veins when his mouth moved against Harry Potters?

He shook his head, blinking in the darkness of the empty road, and with difficulty forced all thoughts of Harry from his mind. His breath came out in a white fog as he pushed open the tall gates - which would only open to a Malfoy - and stepped into the grounds of the family manor.

The sweeping driveway led him up the lawn until he came to the polished wooden door, slightly ajar. A trickle of unease ran down the back of his spine. No welcoming lights twinkled out at him from within, he had never arrived home before without a greeting party of servants, house elves, sometimes parents. It felt almost wrong to be here, sneaking through the manor door into the familiar, sumptuous entrance hall.

Squinting in the darkness, Draco waited for his eyes to become adjusted rather than light his wand or a lamp. He did not want to advertise his presence to anything that may be waiting in the shadows. As he grew accustomed to the gloom his eyes fell upon the sweeping, curved staircases that led upstairs from opposite walls, the paintings hanging on the walls of members of his bloodline, tracing right back to before the middle ages. The house had not been deserted for long enough to fall into real disrepair, but the first signs of neglect were beginning to show. He could make out silvery spider webs threading across the points where wall met carved ceiling, and little puffs of dust rose up from the thick green carpet as he trod carefully across the room. It brought a feeling of unhappy nostalgia over him to see his childhood home slowly begin to deteriorate.

He crept through the darkness from room to room, peering through the shadows as his eyes sought out familiarity, lighting upon a photograph he remembered or an expensive ornament he knew. The fireplace in the main lounge was cold, dark and empty, black cinders blowing in small, fast circles as wind whistled down the chimney into the icy room. There was no sign of life, either his parents or their possible attackers. Not even a house elf remained behind.

Draco headed further into the maze of corridors, past libraries and function rooms where his mother had held lavish parties, and the steps that led down to kitchens and servants quarters in the basement. It seemed to grow darker with every step, and his senses seemed more defined than usual, his eyes straining into the shadows, his ears painfully aware of every sigh of wind and creak of wooden beams. The vast conservatory came into view, a few weak stars twinkling in and out of clouds, lighting upon huge, beautiful telescopes and elegantly carved furniture. He moved to take a step inside the room when a sudden bright light flared behind him and he flattened himself in fright against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. He clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from making a sound, icy fear coursing through him.

A bright, glimmering yellow light burned his eyes in the surrounding darkness. It was coming from the room he had just crept past, his fathers office. The door was ajar. His chest pounding painfully, Draco took careful, quiet steps towards the entry, faltering every few seconds. Fear raged against a burning curiosity to discover. Someone was in his house - in his fathers study. Maybe it was his parents.

Shadows flickered across the narrow stretch of wall he could see through the slightly open door. Yellow light danced and span across dark wooden panels, making his eyes water. A distorted human shadow passed across his line of sight and he stumbled backwards in fear, heart in his mouth. He froze in fear as maniacal laughter came from inside the room, the lights burning brighter and brighter until he could not look at them any more. He turned on his heel and fled silently from the open door, echoing laughter chasing him through the darkness.

He slowly, painstakingly pulled the handle on the conservatory door, praying it would open, praying it wouldn't creak. All he wanted was to put as much distance between himself and the owner of that laugh as possible. The door opened with a quiet click, and no footsteps ran after him as he escaped into the gardens, patterns of glaring light still dancing in front of his eyes.

**--**

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**A/N: **Thank yous time. **XXxDecemberxXxRainxXx**, **SkyeEyesSparkle7135**, **luckycharm9** (three times a day?? I love that I've inspired such fanaticism xD), **xXCaRaXx**, **forevrlostinme**, **crazysunshine42**, **blAiseCoRRupt**, **a ( )**, **TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPockets**, **harry-potters-sister**, **SwarmOfFanGirls**, **SanityIsNotStatistical**, **Hyper Hippie**, **Nagini Potter**, **JakesGirl2010**, **Secluded Angel 33**. I squee with delight when I get a new email telling me someone has left a review. Thank you so so much!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. It makes me sad :(

**A/N: **My cat is lying across the keypad with her head in my hand, which is understandably making it very difficult to write xD

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Harry knew it was a bad idea. He had said so at the beginning, and he had been right. It had been all _What choice have we got _and _There's no other way out _from Ron, Hermione and Draco, but Harry knew he would not be able to last an entire day.

So far it had been one hour since Draco walked out of the room, and he wasn't in any pain yet, but the faint stirrings of discomfort were building in his chest and head. It would be alright if Draco was in the room with him and they weren't touching, but the fact that he was so very far away… somehow it made things a lot more difficult to bear. It made him feel even more exhausted, if that were possible. He couldn't remember ever being so tired, where his brain throbbed with a drowsy nausea and his body ached all over. It hurt his bones to move, it hurt his head to think. He wasn't sure how long it had been now, how many days and nights he had been awake. All the hours bled into one other in a relentless haze of fatigue. Rain always pounded against the windowpane and shadows danced deceptively in the corner of his eyes. Sometimes he would swear he could see something just beyond his line of vision - and he would turn round only to face blank wall or empty stone floor. He felt like he was steadily losing his mind, and he knew he only had to go to sleep for a couple of hours to make everything so much better - but he couldn't. He was so afraid of falling asleep. When his eyelids began to droop he would hear the distant hiss of a blade slicing through cold white air or the indiscernible whisper of something clad in black robes, waiting for him; and he would snap suddenly awake with a jerk that made his body hurt.

Ron and Hermione sat on hard plastic chairs on one side of his bed, and he sat with his legs crossed still, staring blankly at the floor.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, for the eighth time. She had circles under her eyes and her hair was slipping from its grips. Ron yawned behind his hand and Harry wanted to cry out with frustration. He lay down on the bed with his back to them, curled into a ball and closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried his hardest to pretend it was Draco holding him.

"Careful not to fall asleep," said Hermione softly, and Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming out at her.

--

The Malfoy gardens began with stretches of patio and decks, ideal for entertaining guests. Draco could remember being very young, perhaps three, and watching his mother flit from group to group of ministry members and rich wizards, looking beautifully elegant in a long, shimmering gown, a narrow champagne flute sparkling in her hand. Small, delicate lights would twinkle over their heads as dusk descended, and bands would play soft, wonderful music from the raised platform in the corner.

Draco's heartbeat began to slow as he wandered through the unbroken darkness, the scene of so many parties now cold and dark. The Malfoy name was in disgrace, his mother and father on the run. Things couldn't be more different now and he smiled bitterly as he looked around and remember how wonderful it had all seemed, and how none of them could have guessed what lay in store.

He began to feel calmer. He glanced over his shoulder every minute or so when the fear of being ambushed would suddenly overwhelm him - but whoever it was inside his house had obviously not noticed him and with nothing around but sharp silence he would hear them coming immediately should they choose for whatever reason to take a stroll in the gardens.

More than afraid he felt angry. Someone had broken into his house. He cast a backwards glance into the darkness, his footsteps muffled as he stepped off the stone patio and onto what was once neatly trimmed grass. Now it grew long and untamed, riddled with daisies and weeds. His mother would have a fit if she could see.

He wondered who it might be. Another Death Eater on the run, perhaps - waiting to see if the Malfoys would turn up and they might band together. But that did not explain the piercing yellow light, the bright spinning trace of what seemed to Draco like a spell. He frowned and wished he had the courage to go back and investigate. Potter would attempt to find out who was in that room, he knew. Potter was brave and reckless to the point of stupidity. But while Draco grudgingly admired Harry's daring he did not envy that his courage seemed prone to landing him unbelievably bad situations. Draco did not want to get cursed or murdered. Not only would it be terrible for him, it would certainly spell disaster for Harry as well.

Glancing over his shoulder, Draco let his thoughts turn to Harry as he made his way across the grass. The Malfoy gardens were large areas, each specifically designed around a theme, all of them connected by a curve in the grass or a cobbled path, a stone archway covered in hanging flowers or a door hidden in a wall draped with wild ivy. The land itself stretched for miles but the gardens were magically altered so that an endless expanse could fit inside of them. If it was desired the grounds outside the mansion could literally go on forever.

Draco knew his father kept rare and dangerous plants in a row of greenhouses similar to the ones at Hogwarts. Seeing as the gardens were so expansive his parents had set up portkeys connecting different parts, and Draco headed towards one only to find it dead and defunct.

A small stream wound its way through the left side of the grounds, curving in and back out again several times. A particular rock set into a small, picturesque waterfall ought to transport him to the farthest right corner of the grounds, where the greenhouses were located. He pressed his finger to it a number of times before admitting defeat with a sigh. He checked his watch and glanced behind his shoulder. He had been gone for nearly two hours; surely not long enough for Harry to start feeling the effects of his absence. There was nothing for it except to make his way to his destination the old fashioned way; on foot.

As he walked he encountered areas he remembered well, and other parts he had not seen that he supposed must have been created while he was at school. He wandered through his particular favourite spots with an indulgent slowness, feeling slightly guilty but sure that Harry could not be missing him yet. He also felt certain that whoever it was inside the manor was still in there and had no idea of his presence. The familiar surroundings felt soothing and it was hard to stay afraid. Occasionally he would pass a wrought iron lamp charmed to glow comforting orange warmth into the surrounding night.

There were formal gardens with neatly designed rows of exotic flowers that looked no less beautiful in the dark, a large pond filled with lilypads and brightly coloured fish, and a tradition English garden that Draco remembered playing in with his mother. It contained delicate pink apple blossoms that magically bloomed all year round and a large white cushioned swing hanging from the branch of an enormous oak. Nothing around him was affected by the seasons or the cold. He passed the winter gardens full of ice that shot from the ground in the shape of gnarled trees, fragile flakes of snow falling from the branches. Frost glittered through the darkness from every surface. They were followed by fields of orchards with rows and rows of fruit trees, and the butterfly fields where brightly coloured insects flitted from flower to flower.

As he walked, the hours slipped past at an alarming pace and the faintest nagging concern began to trouble the back of Draco's mind. He pushed blonde hair from his eyes and checked his watch again. He was trying to calculate how long it might take him to get back when round a curve of broken pathways loomed the long glass buildings he had been searching for. He smiled a grim, triumphant smile and hurried onwards.

He cupped a hand to the glass of each construction, squinting through the grime and gloom to discern what was housed inside. The first contained fruits not accustomed to growing in English weather, the second housed mandrakes. The door to the third slid open with a squeal of protest, and Draco stepped into the greenhouse and smiled again at the sight of rare plants and dangerous herbs. Peering through the tangle of plants, he ran through what he was looking for in his mind. His father was not stupid enough to nametag the things he grew illegally in his gardens, but Draco knew what the ashtavarga plant looked like. He stepped over a twist of thick green vines, careful not to touch anything. The flora around him used to be neatly kept and pruned but had grown wild since the house had been abandoned, snaking across the floor and twining together to create a jungle. Draco skirted a large, faintly pulsating brown growth with extra care as everything growing around it seemed to have died.

He made his way slowly up and down the aisles, battling with the desire to hurry and the need to be thorough. A thin and strong blueish vine snaked around his ankle and he kicked it back, his heart pounding.

At last, towards the end, he came across a row of shelves housing small plants with roots that had expanded and cracked the terracotta pots that contained them. In the corner was an undersized, thin stem wilting under the weight of enormous, thick red leaves. They were veined with delicate threads of silver and looked highly poisonous. Draco smiled and reached out towards it, whispering "I found it, Harry."

--

Five hours in, Ron and Hermione were gazing down at the figure on the bed, their faces concerned. Hermione's eyes were filled with tears and she pressed a hand to her mouth. Harry lay on the bed, shaking perceptibly, covered in a fine layer of cold sweat. He was not responding to their voices, and jerked away from their touch with a cry of fear or pain. Occasionally he would whimper Draco's name as he clenched his fingers around the bed sheets, reaching out for something that wasn't there.

"This wasn't a good idea," whispered Hermione. "I'll get Madam Pomfrey -"

"No!" Ron hissed, grabbing her wrist. "Think of the trouble we'll _all_ be in if they find out about this! It's the middle of the night, she won't be coming in to check on them for hours - and Malfoy will be back by then, you'll see."

"But _look_ at him, Ron!" she cried, pointing to Harry. "He wasn't ready for this - Malfoy is too far away! It's hurting him!"

"Just give it a little while longer," Ron urged. "Malfoy'll be back before long, I promise."

--

Draco crept back into the shadowy manor just as the darkness began to lift to the hazy grey of morning. The glass vial containing three heavy red leaves was clutched tight in his hand and he tiptoed forward, his heart thudding, his nerves on edge. He peered round the conservatory door. The blinding yellow light was still shining and spinning inside the office. He couldn't see the creator or the centre of the spell, only the outsides of the glow through the narrow gap in the open doorway. Silence came from within. Draco crept past as quietly as he could, his whole body tensed, his nerves screaming. He hardly dared to breath. He slipped past and headed silently for the front door, turning to glance backwards at the door and not seeing the small cabinet against the wall in front of him. He knocked into the edge, making him gasp, and he dropped his bag which fell to the dusty carpet with a loud thud.

He froze, his blood turned to ice. His heart was trip hammering in his chest. He bent to scoop up the satchel with trembling fingers and span round to face a tall cloaked figure standing in the doorway to the office, facing in his direction. A wand was pulled from lifeless, thin robes and Draco turned on his heel and ran for his life.

--

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**A/N: **I didn't think I would have anyone to give love to seeing as this is so soon after the previous chapter - but hey! Love and thankyous to **Nagini Potter**, **Dezra, Lady Sakura **and **forevrlostinme**. I can't believe we've passed the 100 review mark, I can't thank you guys enough for all your kind words and support :D


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. It makes me sad :(

**A/N: **I can't believe we're on chapter 22! This is so weird for me cause I can never normally stay focused on lengthy fics for this long, I'm quite proud of myself :D Of course I couldn't have got here without my beloved reviewers, I heart you guys. This is the first of **two** new chapters.

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Chapter 22

Back in the warmly lit confines of his hospital room, Ron and Hermione watched powerlessly as their friend worsened by the minute.

He couldn't remember where he was, how he had got there. His body was contorted with pain. On the edges of his subconscious he could hear cries and whimpers of pain, yet he did not recognise what they were or realise they came from his own mouth. His head burned and his muscles shook fitfully, painfully. Agonizing pain lanced through him and he curled up into a ball, hugging his own frail, exhausted body. He ached for soft blonde hair and the comfort of warm, pale limbs. He cried out his beloveds name as the crawling, unbearable itch swarmed over his body and he bit down on the soft flesh of his own arm as he tried his hardest not to scream.

He was no longer aware of Ron and Hermione's presence, could not hear their words of attempted comfort. A sharp cord of fear whipped through him as he sensed that terrible presence lurking at the edges of the darkness that clouded his mind. He whimpered in pain and cried out again, desperate for the only one who could make all of this go away. Where was he?

--

"He's on his way, Harry," Hermione soothed, wanting to reach out and comfort him but not knowing if it would hurt him, make him worse. Her eyes were bright with tears as she watched the boy on the bed, his fingers grasping out towards empty air, his face frighteningly pale. His scar stood out a burning red on his forehead, drenched in sweat. She turned to Ron angrily.

"The sun is nearly up," she hissed. "Where the hell is Malfoy?"

"He'll be here soon," Ron replied. His face was pale and drawn. He sat at the edge of the bed, not looking at her, gazing down at the frail body before him, biting his lip. Harry looked like he had gone right back to square one, like he had been before they had discovered Draco's healing effect on him.

"He ought to be back by now! What if something's happened? We _have_ to get Madam Pomfrey!"

"Not _yet_. Just give it until the sun comes up, will you?"

"Look at Harry, Ron! He's sick, he needs help!"

"Listen," said Ron through gritted teeth. "Pomfrey will be coming in here in less than an hour anyway, to do the morning check-up. If Malfoy isn't back by then we can tell her everything -"

"But what if it's really hurting him, what if it's damaging him?"

"We'll tell her everything _then_," Ron repeated firmly. "In the meantime - let's just stick to the plan, shall we?" He watched as Harry curled his shaking fingers round the twisted bed sheets, clenching every time a flare of pain attacked him. He tried to sound more confident than he felt. "Malfoy will be back soon, you'll see."

"How can you _possibly_ know that? Anything could have happened to him - what's going to happen to Harry if Malfoy has been killed?"

"He said he would be half a day at the most," Ron snapped. "It hasn't been half a day yet! Give it a chance before you assume the worst and report him dead."

"It doesn't matter how long it's been, Ron! It could have been half a day or half an hour, the only thing that matters is that Harry is sick and he needs help!"

"And what do you think Pomfrey is going to do, exactly - besides get us all expelled for putting Harry in danger?" Ron hissed. "You know they don't have any cure for this thing apart from what Malfoy can do for him - what's the point in getting Madam Pomfrey when she isn't going to be able to do anything to help?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth, closed it. She fell silent. Turning back to Harry she reached out to take his trembling, sweaty hand in her own. He jerked away with a whimper, mumbling inaudibly. The only word they could make out was "Draco."

"No," she said softly. "I can't stand this, I'm going to get help -"

She turned and strode past Ron, ducking his arms and heading for the door, as he whispered furiously at her. He was silenced by the crash of the door opening before she could reach it and they both span round, startled, to see Draco stagger into the room.

He was soaked from head to foot, his face paler than normal, damp hair sticking to his cold skin. He was clutching a thick glass vial and he thrust it wordlessly at Hermione, who caught it, staring at him amazedly. He stumbled across the room towards the fitful, moaning boy on the bed, shrugged his coat off and collapsed down beside him, pulling Harry into his arms.

Harry cried out and struggled blindly, pulling weakly backwards. There was no strength left in his body and after a sharp tug he fell against Draco with a gasp. Draco wrapped his arms tight around the shaking body and closed his eyes, burying his head in Harry's hair. Without so much as looking up he spoke harshly to Ron and Hermione, his voice husky, his breathing ragged.

"Well, what the hell are you waiting for?"

Hermione jumped. She tore her eyes away from the two boys curled around each other, Harry limp and barely conscious in Draco's arms. She looked down at the vial clutched against her chest. It contained three enormous red leaves, thick and slightly pulsating, threaded with silver veins.

"This is it," she whispered. "Ron - let's go!" She turned back to Draco, faltering.

"He'll be fine," the blonde boy mumbled hoarsely. She nodded, motioned Ron to follow, and they hurried from the room together.

Draco sighed, his body a map of aches. He held Harry as tight as he could, the dark haired boy shaking weakly against him, hands grasping the fabric of Draco's damp shirt. His heavy breathing slowly began to calm and he breathed in the scent of Harry's hair, feeling his frayed nerves gradually relax, his heartbeat ease. He heaved a sigh and settled down to wait for Harry to come round.

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**A/N: **I know it's mad short but look! Keep going! There's another chapter up already :D

**zZzQueen, Secluded Angel 33, xinsert user name here-, SwarmOfFanGirls, Hyper Hippie, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket **(you ARE cruel :P), **harry-potters-sister, Rika'sGrayWolf, Dezra **(of course it couldn't be easy :P), **luckycharm9, Nagini Potter **(xD CALM DOWN!), **Medicinal Biscuit, Sakura **(I'm glad you're back!) and** forevrlostinme. **Thankyou to the amount of infinity times ten plus five.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A/N: **Stop - this isn't the latest chapter! Two have been posted at the same time so you need to go back one to chapter 22. You wouldn't want to spoil it!

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Chapter 23

"Thank god," Ron groaned as he and Hermione squeezed into the end cubicle of Myrtle's bathroom, the bright fire still flickering beneath the cauldron set into the broken toilet. Dancing orange light flickered across the damp green tiles and the sound of their movements echoed through the cold room. The bathroom was unused and therefore unheated. Ron watched his breath puff out in clouds of visible fog as Hermione pulled the large cork from the glass vial and peered at the contents with a frown.

"Is there anything we have to do to them, or do we just chuck them straight in?" he asked. Hermione glanced down at the dusty book propped against the cistern. The potion bubbled merrily, now a dark shade of grey.

"Just put them in… carefully, one by one," she said. "Put your gloves on, I'm not sure how damaging they might be to the skin."

Ron gingerly pulled the first chunky leaf from the container. "Urgh, it feels horrible," he moaned. "Like it's gonna burst all over me." He lowered it into the cauldron and placed it cautiously into the incomplete potion. It disappeared momentarily and then bobbed back up to the surface. The bright delicate veins glistened momentarily and they watched as the grey of the potion began to seep through the bright streaks of silver, dyeing them a darker, duller colour. The leaf began to crackle and bubble, and finally disappeared back under the opaque surface of the potion. They repeated this action twice more and when the last red leaf was swallowed by the potion there was a sudden crack and the liquid turned the same shining silver as the veins of the plant.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought it wasn't going to change for a minute there." She smiled up at Ron, their arguments forgotten. "It looks like it should now, at this stage of the process. From silver it ought to gradually become clear. That's what the book says."

"How many days left till it's complete?"

"Just two. There's only a few more ingredients to add."

Ron smiled briefly before glancing back down at the potion. A slight frown creased his forehead. "You think Harry can last another two days?" he asked.

Hermione gazed at him thoughtfully, her face serious, worried. "I don't know," she said softly. "I hope so."

--

As the minutes ticked by Draco relaxed into the warm, comforting sheets, and weariness started to pull on him. He shook his head, wanting to stay awake. Harry was slowly coming out of it, regaining the control he had lost to the pain of such a lengthy separation. He stirred slightly, feeling clarity slip back through the dark, fuzzy cloud of his mind.

"Draco…?" he mumbled, the sound muffled against Draco's chest.

"I'm here," came the soft reply. Harry opened his eyes a crack, stinging in the glow of the lamplight. He raised his head with a wince of pain, all the aches and hurts rushing back, along with the constant, wearing struggle against exhaustion.

"Everything hurts," he said quietly, his throat sore.

"Give it a bit of time. I was gone quite a while…"

Harry pulled weakly against Draco's shirt, wanting him to move, wanting to see him. The blonde boy complied and wriggled carefully downwards until they were at eye level. Harry nuzzled tiredly into him, feeling safe in Draco's arms. They lay in silence for a few minutes, drawing comfort from each others presence.

"How do you feel?" Draco asked.

Harry considered this wearily. He felt terribly weak, almost nauseous. His head was pounding and every single part of him ached. He felt like he couldn't get close enough to Draco, and the itch was not yet quite sated. And as always he was incredibly tired. "Pretty bad," he concluded weakly. "Did you get that… thing?"

"Yeah, I got it. Weasley and Granger are adding it to the potion now."

Harry hummed slightly, sending soft vibrations through Draco's skin. He wriggled closer to the dark haired boy.

"Was there… any trouble?"

The door clicked open and Ron and Hermione re-entered the room. Draco cocked an eyebrow at Granger and she nodded. Harry did not open his eyes or even move from his position.

Draco frowned. "There was someone in my house."

"What?"

He told them about his trip to the Malfoy Manor, about stealing in through the unlocked door and thinking the dark, dusty mansion empty until he had come to his fathers office. He explained what he had seen through the crack in the open door, the spinning, dancing light and the shadows of a figure on the wall.

"You didn't see who it was?" asked Weasley.

"No."

"Why did it take you so long?"

He explained about the broken portkeys and having to make his way through the expansive gardens on foot. He told them how he had found the ashtavarga plant in the greenhouses where he had supposed they would be, and made his way back again towards the house. Here he faltered.

"And then?" asked Weasley. Harry had still not moved but Draco could feel his steady breathing against his skin. He tightened his hold on the dark haired boy, and swallowed.

"I had to go back past my fathers study," he said. "Whoever it was - they were still in there, the light was still there. I tried to go past quietly but - I… it was dark, I hit something. I dropped my bag."

Weasley and Granger stared at him. "What happened?" whispered Granger, looking terrified.

"They heard me. Someone… came out of the room -"

"Who was it?"

"I don't know, I couldn't see them - they were wearing robes that covered their faces."

Harry stirred slightly at this. Draco stroked a comforting hand slowly across his back, taking comfort from his warm weight. The memory of what had happened made him feel cold, made fear prickle down his spine.

"They fired a couple of spells at me but I managed to get away."

Hermione lowered her shaking hands from her mouth, staring at him, her eyes large and fearful. "How?" she whispered. Draco looked at her, her concern making him feel uncomfortable.

"I ran," he replied.

"Did they see who you were?"

Draco shook his head. "I don't think so, it was pitch black. Well - apart from the yellow light coming from the office."

"And you can't think of who it might have been?"

"No. They were taller than me, and they looked thin… but apart from that, I couldn't see anything."

Ron whistled and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Scary," he muttered.

The door opened with a loud snap and they all jumped. Madam Pomfrey stepped into the room, wheeling a trolley which carried a breakfast tray and various potions for Harry.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked. "Off you go, it'll soon be time for classes!"

Ron groaned theatrically and he and Hermione made their way out of the room, with a promise to return soon. Harry watched them go in silence, taking in their pale faces and the circles under their eyes. He quietly let Madam Pomfrey check him over and feed him three different types of potions, and waited for her to finish with Draco, too. He watched as she frowned, looking concerned, and jotted several things down on a clip-pad.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," she said finally, and left them to eat their breakfast. Harry ignored his and turned back to Draco, burying his head in the crook of the blonde boys neck and shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Not eating?"

Harry shrugged. "Not hungry." He played absently with the fabric of Draco's shirt, now dry thanks to a quick spell. He slowly traced the patterns with his fingertips, pausing when Draco shivered. Exhaustion pulled at him, his eyes felt heavy and his mind ached. "What colour did you say the lights were, in the room with the spell?" he asked quietly.

"Yellow. Why?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. It just seems… familiar."

Draco hummed in a non-committed way, and sat up carefully, wincing, to set the breakfast tray on the table beside the bed. He turned back to Harry and pulled him close. They gazed at each other in the dim yellow-grey light of dawn.

"I missed you," Harry whispered. He reached out a hand and stroked blonde hair from Draco's eyes with shaking fingertips. Draco smiled.

"I missed you too," he said softly. Harry's eyes widened and before he could speak Draco leaned in and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. "No talking," he whispered. He did not want to ruin the moment, and he was too tired to talk. Harry blinked up at him, considering for a few moments, and then he nodded.

They lay in shy, comfortable silence as the morning rose around them, and for the first time the rain began to slow and the faintest glimpse of weak sunlight appeared through the clouds.

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A/N: Remember what I said about there being probably twenty-four chapters in this fic? Scratch that! We're looking now at around thirty - thirty two. Ish. Maybe.

As always **please review!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

**A/N: **I've been suffering from a mild case of… not exactly writers block, it's like I've tried to write but nothing really seemed to go. I couldn't make the words flow the way I wanted them to. Also the letter 'O' on my keypad has been playing up D: Hopefully everything is better now…

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Chapter 24

Draco had dared to hope that with the potion now in its final stages of completion and the answers to their questions in sight, things might begin to take a turn for the better at last. He had thought that it might be easy from here on out, that they could wait somewhat impatiently for the potion to be ready and then all the solutions would fall straight into their laps.

He was wrong.

Harry had not yet fully recovered after being separated from Draco for such a long time. If anything his condition was steadily worsening. He lay in his hospital bed as the hours crawled past, curled up into Draco's embrace and drifting in and out of a kind of hazy unawareness. He recoiled whenever anybody attempted to touch him which made Madam Pomfreys job of examining him very difficult indeed. The threat of nightmares was always looming over his head and she was sure a good nights sleep would work wonders - but there was nothing Draco could do except lie with him, enveloped in helpless fury and exhaustion as he watched his charge slowly slipping away. Professor Dumbledore visited more often, but Draco bitterly noted how useless his presence was when he had no leads, no treatments or cures. Remus Lupin came to visit and stood silently over the bed, his face bearing a sad look of resignation. And of course his insufferable friends were always at Harry's side.

"Only twenty-four hours to go," said Hermione hoarsely. Draco had no idea of the day but he could surmise it to be some time in the late afternoon. He lay with Harry nestled against his chest, the dark haired boy tracing slow patterns with pale fingers on Draco's pullover. Draco pulled away slightly and wriggled downwards so that they had eye contact.

"Hear that?" he said softly. Harry raised bleary eyes and regarded him silently, his face pale and drained. "This time tomorrow the potion will be ready. Then we can find out who's doing this to you."

Harry didn't answer. Cold sunlight filtered in through the high windows, filling the room with pale winter light. Dust danced in the glow of the small warming flames burning in brackets around the stone walls. Draco studied the dark haired boy thoughtfully, and they lay in silence as Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing for dinner.

Once they were alone Draco brushed a stray hair out of Harry's dull green eyes, and his fingertips trailed softly down his cheek and across his jaw.

"Is there anything you need?" he asked quietly. "Are you hungry?" Harry shook his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you sure? Why don't I get Madam Pomfrey to get you something?" Draco encouraged, grey eyes taking in Harry's drawn features and weak stature. He carefully took Harry's wrists and tugged him up into a sitting position. "You haven't eaten all day. I'll go get Pomfrey and -"

"Draco," interrupted Harry quietly, watching him with an empty expression. He shook his head weakly, pulling at the fabric of the blondes sweater. His voice was low and hoarse, his eyes shining. "I'm not hungry."

"Come on, Potter - it might do you some good."

"Draco, _please_," Harry looked up at him, his eyes full of tears. "I'm not hungry - I need you…"

Draco fell back against him and Harry swayed where he sat, too exhausted to hold himself up. Draco gazed down at the other boy, battling with concern and denial, still holding his wrists in a loose grip.

"Sorry," he whispered. "It's just… you're not well, Harry. You haven't slept for so long, you're not eating…" he bit his lip, resting his forehead against Harry's, listening to his shaky breathing. "I'm worried about you."

Harry let out a dry sob and pulled his hand free to shakily wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. His lower lip trembled. Draco could feel the pain and confusion coming off him in waves, washing over Draco and pulling him powerlessly in. He wrapped his arms tight around Harry, feeling the Gryffindor clutch weakly at him, holding back his sobs. Desire lapped at Draco's insides and he pushed it down angrily. Harry buried his face in the crook of the blonde boys neck and shoulder.

"I'm just… _so tired_," he choked, his voice quavering, his eyes brimming with tears. The constant battle against exhaustion and the blistering pain every time Draco moved an inch away from him, it was too much. His mind and body had been aching for so long, he felt as though he was slowly losing his sanity. He wanted to give in and let the spell that had such hold over him just take its course. "If I could just sleep… just for a _minute_…" He lowered his head, his breath coming in painful, heavy bursts. He didn't want Draco to see him cry. "I'm so scared…"

Draco had never felt so helpless. Harry was falling more and more out of everyone's reach with every passing hour. He held the shaking boy as he struggled not to cry, stroking comforting hands through scruffy black hair and down his back. "I know," he said softly. He cast around the room, feeling defeated, looking in vain for something that might be of comfort. "You've just got to hold on for a little while longer, that's all. This time tomorrow the potion will be ready to drink."

"And then what?" came Harry's muffled voice, pressed against the fabric of Draco's shirt. "What if it doesn't work - what if they can't find whoever's doing this to me? What if -"

"Harry…" Draco hushed him, carefully manoeuvring them both and lying down on the bed, pulling Harry with him. Harry blinked fiercely at the ceiling, sniffing. "Stop it, Harry. You're just making yourself worse. You need rest."

Harry scoffed humourlessly through his tears. "Thanks, Malfoy," he said harshly. "I'll just get a few hours sleep then, shall I? Try my best not to get murdered in the process."

Draco bit back the retort that leaped into his mind. Fighting was definitely not going to solve anything. Harry took a deep, shaking breath and wiped his eyes tiredly, moving closer so that they were lying side by side.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just - really…" he sighed, his eyes sparkling. "I can't do this for much longer."

Draco smiled slightly. He raised a hand to stroke his fingers slowly through Harry's soft dark hair, watching the other boys long eyelashes flutter closed at the touch. The distant rumble of thunder sounded from outside. They lay in silence, Draco running gentle fingertips across the slope of Harry's jaw and leaning in to kiss him softly on the forehead. He felt the slightly raised flesh of a lightning scar underneath his lips, and sighed. This was all going way too far. When it all started he had only wanted to guarantee his own security, win back the favour of the Malfoy name in the eyes of the wizarding world. He had never imagined things would spiral so far out of control, that he would get so pulled into the battle that he would begin to genuinely care about Harry's wellbeing. It was frightening.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked quietly, feeling the tremors running through Harry's body ease, and his breathing slow.

Harry lifted his head and gazed into dark grey eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, hesitating.

"Yes," he said softly. Dull green eyes flicked meaningfully to Draco's lips, and back again. A slight pink flush crept across his cheeks. The blonde boy smiled ever so slightly, nodded.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

Harry gazed at him for a second, feeling the desire rising up inside him, suffocating him. His eyes fluttered closed, he ran his tongue across his lips, breathing in shallow and nervous breaths. Draco studied him, taking in the pale features and the striking contrast of black hair. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, feeling the rush of longing swell inside him as his mouth connected with Harry's. The soft press of lips against his was intoxicating, the way Harry kissed him was different to anything else he had ever felt; soft and hesitant yet filled with such an urgency and dependence that it made him feel dizzy.

Harry gasped. "Oh god…" he mumbled. "Draco - I…" he swallowed, his fingers gripping the flesh of Draco's forearms painfully hard. He nuzzled into Draco's hair, breathing in the smell, feeling the desire surging through him. "I can… _feel _myself getting m-more attracted to you every day," he stuttered.

Draco's mind reeled, pulling back instinctively, while his body refused to leave the comforting warmth that was Harry's embrace. He leaned forward and they kissed again, softly, savouring every taste, every movement.

"You're under a powerful dark spell," he sighed. "What's my excuse?"

"W- what?"

"The way you're feeling is probably just some weird side-effect of the curse," he said. "When we… kiss - I mean… you only want to because of the spell. What about me?" he looked away, blushing. They had talked about the way Harry felt for him before, but never really raised the subject of whether his feelings were reciprocated. Draco felt awkward, embarrassed.

"Well… what choice do you have?" asked Harry softly. "If I need you to… you're just doing it to help me, right?"

Draco blinked at him. Thunder cracked across the darkening sky, louder than before, echoing as the persistent wind blustered around the eaves of the castle. It seemed the storm was not quite ready to subside yet. He smiled wryly.

"Yeah," he agreed resignedly. "Just to help you."

Harry nodded.

"Listen," Draco sat up and reached for the energising potion on the bedside table next to him. He picked up the vial full of warming orange liquid and drank half of it, feeling his dulled nerves jolt to life and his mind temporarily clear. Harry held out a hand to take it from him, and frowned when he instead set it back down on the table. "Why don't you try and get some sleep for a while?"

Harry stared at him. "I _can't_," he said in weary frustration. He rubbed his burning eyes tiredly and Draco forced down any kind of notion that it might be endearing. "You know I can't."

Draco pushed blonde hair out of his eyes and studied Harry, biting his lip. He lay down and gathered the dark haired boy tightly into his arms, their limbs entwined. "I'll be here to watch you," he said softly. "You're exhausted - you need sleep. Even if it's just half an hour it's better than nothing."

"I can't - I'll have bad dreams."

"I'll watch you," Draco replied. "I'll stay awake and keep an eye on you - as soon as you look like you're dreaming I'll wake you up."

Harry shook his head, wriggling further into Draco's embrace as the blonde boy rubbed gently at the skin on the back of his neck, making him shiver. "I _can't_."

"You said yourself you can't carry on like this much longer, Harry. People aren't supposed to go without sleep for this long. The second it looks like you're struggling I'll wake you up."

The dark boy bit his lip, faltering. "N-no… what if you can't wake me up?" he mumbled.

"I _will_."

Harry studied him, fear flickering across his eyes, hesitating. "I'm scared," he said softly.

Draco sighed. He looked into Harry's tired eyes resolutely, reassuringly. "I know," he answered. "You're just going to have to trust me."

"You promise you'll wake me up?"

"I promise." Draco tilted his head and kissed the other boy, who responded immediately, a soft moan slipping from him, lost against Draco's lips. He wrapped an arm around Harry so that his dark head lay against Draco's forearm, pulling away to study him intently. His other hand circled around Harry's waist, running his fingers indulgently across the Gryffindors slim waist.

Harry gazed at him for a moment, his lips parted, concern and exhaustion clashing within him. He let out a submissive sigh and nodded, curling closer and letting his heavy eyelids fall slowly closed.

"Don't leave me," he mumbled.

Draco lay still, listening to the other boys breathing. It didn't take long to develop into the slow rhythm of sleep as Harry slipped into a quiet slumber, letting out a soft, contented noise like a cat. Draco continued to caress his hair and run slow fingers across his sides, listening to the sounds of the outside world as they lay alone in their hospital room.

"I won't," he whispered, and settled down to wait.

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**A/N:** I'm running out of ways to say thankyou but **crazysunshine42, evildictionaryninja, Anne399, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, Rachel, Sakura, RGW, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Medicinal Biscuit, luckycharm9, forevrlostinme**... you guys all rock my world. I would eat my own arm for you. Thankyou!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

**A/N: **I'm sorry it's been so long! I don't even have an excuse, I am just rubbish D: To make it up to you I have two new chapters of slashy goodness!

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Chapter 25

The minutes ticked by and Draco lay in the hazy lamplight, feeling the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest and the slow exhalations as he breathed. Every second that passed felt like a triumph in the battle against the unknown as Harry lay curled tight against Draco's body, lost in a peaceful slumber. How long the silence would last Draco was not sure, but a small amount of sleep was surely better than no sleep at all.

He could feel the pull of fatigue luring him as he lay, not moving, trying to keep as still as possible so as not to wake his bedfellow. He blinked hard and strove to maintain a flow of thoughts running through his mind to keep him occupied. He could not risk falling asleep when Harry needed such dedicated care.

Every now and then dark eyelashes would flutter or a hand would pull away with unexplained suddenness and Draco would shake the other boy awake as gently as he could, murmur something reassuring and watch as exhaustion stole back into Harry's clouded mind and claimed him once more.

For the most part though the Gryffindor boy lay motionless, his hair tickling Draco's face, their limbs entangled. Draco's thoughts roamed tiredly over the mysteries of their situation one by one; the unknown castor of the curse, the effects it was having on Harry, the slow wasting away and the nightmares turned reality. Draco's part in it all as the other boys protector was no clearer to him now than it had been on that very first day. And the unidentified person lurking, casting spells in his childhood home. His knew there must be some link, something to explain all of these questions somehow… but his tired mind could not recognise any connection. He yawned and stretched slightly where he lay, trying not to wake Harry. The dark haired boy mumbled something unintelligible, muffled against Draco's shirt, and turned slightly in his sleep. Draco rolled him over and prodded him awake.

"Harry, wake up."

"No…"

"_Harry!_"

He jerked awake with a painful gasp, his fingers tightening their grasp on Draco's skin and clothes, making him wince. His sudden movements cast jolting shadows against the stone wall, flickering in the dancing firelight.

"Sorry," Draco said softly. "I wasn't sure if you were dreaming or not."

Harry gazed up at him, his heavy eyes bleary and confused. "No," he mumbled. "I wasn't dreaming."

"Go back to sleep then."

Harry closed his eyes.

"Stop staring at me," he muttered.

"I'm _not_." Draco huffed and turned his eyes away, staring up at the ceiling bathed in soft orange light, illuminating all the cracks in the stone. He studied them disinterestedly, picking out patterns and vague shapes as he waited for the other boy to fall asleep once more.

He was almost getting used to the conflicting emotions concerning Harry that battled in his mind every day. Getting used to their presence at least, that did not mean he was growing accustomed to the way he was feeling, or that was at all willing to stop denying it. He would never admit to himself he was becoming attached to his reluctant patient, or that he was utterly terrified by this strange new attachment. Draco had never been fond of anybody or anything in his life; it had always been who he could use to get further ahead, who to be wary of lest they tried to use him. He had never wanted to be around somebody so much.

He could not explain it - when Harry was in perfect health and at his ignorant, witless best, Draco despised him. The thought of Harry Potter made resentment gnaw into his stomach like a virus and spread hatred and disgust throughout his body. His fists clenched and his mind went into lockdown, focusing on one word only: attack. Attack Harry, degrade him, belittle him… Draco would do everything in his power to demonstrate his own superiority over the despicable Gryffindor king.

But now… with Harry lying helpless and dependant in his arms, struggling more and more as the days passed, frightened and confiding only in Draco, wanting only to be near Draco… it made his head spin. It was intoxicating. He wanted to take care of the dark haired boy and watch his dependence on Draco grow. To know that Harry wanted him more than he wanted his professors or his stupid Gryffindor sidekicks. And when Harry kissed him - he had never experienced that kind of intensity in a kiss before. It was confusing, addictive, frightening. He wanted to push the other boy away because he didn't know how to pull him closer.

Draco sighed and pushed everything back to the corner of his mind, compartmentalising it for later inspection. He was too tired right now. Harry sighed softly in his sleep and lifted his head slightly upwards to nuzzle into the hollow of Draco's neck. Unthinkingly the blonde boy lifted a hand and stroked slow fingertips through messy dark hair. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be comforted by the reassuring warmth seeping from the slumbering body in his arms. He yawned.

When they had first found themselves in this unbelievable mess, they had both been certain that Draco could help Harry out while he was needed, and then once the curse was lifted they would go back to the way they were straight away. They had argued during their enforced companionship, sure, that was a given. But Draco had risked his life for Harry's wellbeing. They had managed to go entire days without jumping down each others throats. They had confided in each other. When they were alone in the darkness of night, painfully awake and aware of their situation, the outside world forgotten… they had somehow connected. They had talked and shared and become a united defence against this unknown attacker. Draco found it hard to imagine slipping easily back into that state of enmity after everything that had passed between them.

He yawned again. Exhaustion tugged at his weary mind, dark clouds gathering at the corners of his vision. He shook his head, trying to stave away the comforting call of sleep. Harry lay still in his arms, unmoving but for the steady rise and fall of his chest. It was hard to believe they were in danger now when their entire world was this small room, and the room was warm, cosy and made him feel so comfortable on their shared bed with thick sheets and a warm body to curl up with. Rain pattered soothingly against the windowpane and Draco's breathing slowly fell into sync with Harry's as he drifted wearily off to sleep.

--

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_Darkness._

_An endless expanse of black, cold and empty as a vacuum. He opened his mouth hesitantly, tried to speak - nothing came out. A cold shiver of fear trickled down his spine._

_Flash._

_A spark of white illuminating the void, burning his retinas, making his eyes sting and burn. He squinted into the brightness, seeing nothing but white. No end, no obstacles, no ground beneath his feet. Darkness cut back through the glare, soothing on his eyes but setting his nerves on edge, fear tingling through his veins. His voicebox was empty, no sounds would come from his throat._

_Flash. Bright again, for the shortest of seconds - and a cold stab of fear went into him as he caught sight of a dark shape ahead of him, edging closer through the void, before the black curtain dropped again and his world became blind._

_Draco - he needed Draco. He slowly backed away, feeling behind him into the darkness, panic building inside him like a storm. He strained his eyes into the ceaseless black and screamed inside his own mind for Draco to help him. He hit the wall again, always the same flat expansive barrier that prevented his escape and ensured he could do nothing except wait for death to reach him._

_His fingers scrabbled uselessly for purchase behind him, he tried to run along the edge of the wall but found his way blocked on either side. He turned and pushed desperately against the unmoving obstacle, terror sparking a path through him, his control slipping away as every second passed and the unseen figure crept soundlessly closer._

_Help me, he mouthed silently, somehow knowing his assailant was right behind him and reaching out its cold, steel-cased claws. Please, somebody help me!_

_A cold hand closed around his arm and burning white flared around him again. He was jerked sharply around, pulled as easily as a doll. Icy terror stabbed through him. The cloaked figure stood before him, draped in black robes that did not flutter or move, but hung as though dead from the skeletal form they masked. His terrified mind could make out any detail or features. He sobbed in silent horror and tried to pull away, hitting the unseen wall, sharp fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of his arm as the darkness flashed and ebbed like strobes._

"_Harry Potter…"_

_A second hand slashed through the air and he fell, his face pouring stark red blood that did not splash against the ground on which he stood, but fell down and down and was lost into the void. Blood streamed from four deep gashes, into his mouth, burning his eyes._

_He was whiplashed forward and the sharp crack of bone snapping cut through the dead air like a pistol. He screamed, and for the first time his own voice tore into the darkness as he collapsed to the invisible ground, suspended by his own broken limb as cold fingers tightened around him still, claws drawing blood but lost in the wrenching agony of his shattered arm._

"_Harry Potter…" came the cold, dead whisper as he sobbed and fought, struggling against the grip that held him._

"Help me!" he screamed, blind in his panic.

"I'm trying - Harry - you need to hold still!"

"Please - _it hurts_! Let me go!"

He found himself being roughly shaken, pain lashing through his left arm, and he tried to struggle but the pain was overwhelming and he collapsed, exhausted against the soft surface upon which he lay.

"Harry - oh my god, it's okay, look - Madam Pomfreys here, she's going to take care of you -"

"Come along Mr. Potter, dear, it's alright…"

A rush of sounds and colours frightened and confused him and he fought weakly against the arms that held him. The pain in his arm and the burning in his mind reached such a height that he retched, and it was with fear and relief that he slipped into the numb darkness gathering across the edges of his mind.

--

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**A/N: **I cannot contain my love for the reviewers, it must splurt out onto the page in a big snuggly mess! **SwarmOfFanGirls, Rika'sGrayWolf** ('flangsty'? xD I adore your huge reviews) **Medicinal Biscuit, Nagini Potter, Secluded Angel 33, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Lady Sakura** (I love you :P) **blAiseCoRRupt, crazysunshine42, harry-potters-sister, evildictionaryninja, luckycharm9, HyperMint, iamiam, mizuumi** (your English is better than mine!)**, forevrlostinme, xkohleyesx**… and last but definitely not least **TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket **- I drew you a picture. It's me, indulging in some limb-eating xD photobucket. com /albums/f372/kayleighttt/Untitled-5.jpg - without the spaces.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

**A/N: **WOAH THERE SAILOR! Looking for the latest chapter? This isn't it! Two have been posted at the same time so you need to go back to chapter 25 :D Enjoy.

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Chapter 26

Fast forwarding one hour in time found Draco Malfoy sitting alone on the bed, his face drained of colour and his eyes huge with fear, circled with dark shadows. He sat with his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, biting his lip and staring unseeingly at the dusty floor.

He had fallen asleep. Draco buried his head against his knees and screamed internally at his own stupidity. He had _fallen asleep_. After swearing to Harry he would watch over him, knowing full well what dangers waited for Harry on the edge of his subconscious - he had not been able to control his own exhaustion long enough to make sure the boy _in his care _got the few minutes of rest that he desperately needed. Draco didn't think he had ever hated himself so much as he did right now.

"Please let him be alright," he mumbled. "Please let him be okay."

He had been ripped from his sleep by the sound of Harry screaming, thrashing frantically and jerking away in fear when Draco attempted to touch him, to rouse him. Draco had watched the four parallel wounds slice into Harry's cheek and begin to pour blood, he had heard the sickening snap of bone and felt terror and nausea rise up in his throat at the awkward angle of Harry's arm and his agonised screams of pain. Madam Pomfrey had come running - of course she could hear his cries from the main wing of the infirmary, and she had immediately taken Harry off to be treated. Draco had tried to follow but the matron had commanded he stay put out of her way, saying she would inform him when he could reunited with the patient.

Since then he had sat in silence on the bed, sick with fear, appalled at his own weakness, unable to stop his mind as it contemplated the worst possible outcomes - Harry in unmendable pain, Harry dying, Harry dead. He swallowed the nausea in his throat and took deep, shaking breaths.

"Please be alright," he whispered.

The door to the small ward clicked open and he jerked upwards to see Madam Pomfrey standing before him.

"How is he?" he croaked.

"Alive," said Madam Pomfrey shortly. "Come."

He scrambled off the bed, his nerves weak and shaky, and followed her down the hall.

"He's going to be alright," the matron continued. "He's in a slight state of shock, a little shaken and afraid - I stitched up the wounds on his face and set his arm in a sling -"

"Why couldn't you just use magic?"

"It is too delicate a situation," she replied curtly. "We cannot be sure what will interfere with the curse, worsen his situation, or put him at risk. While we know so little it is safer to stick to Muggle methods, crude as they may be. But he is alive and conscious - in need of your contact at the moment, I believe."

"Right," Draco said quickly, and accelerated his pace.

The main hospital wing was dimly lit, a few torches burning at odd intervals along the walls. Draco had no idea what time it was but the sky outside was a velvety blue, streaked with dark clouds. There were many beds but just a few patients - a boy in the bed nearest the corridor who was sleeping and seemed to be covered in a strange brown crust, and two more still figures at the furthest end of the room, whose ailments he could not make out. Halfway across the wide room was a bed with blue screens pulled around it, towards which Madam Pomfrey pointed him, saying she would be back later to check up on them.

Draco swallowed nervously, his frayed nerves pulled tight like wires, humming with anxiety. He stepped around the curtain.

Harry sat propped against numerous pillows, wrapped in a thick blanket. He looked small and pale, exhaustion seemed to roll off him in visible waves. His face was still bloodstained, his hair shining with blood and sticking wetly to his skin. His arm was bandaged tightly and set in a clean white sling. He looked up as Draco emerged around the screens and his face set, his eyes huge and reproachful.

"Hey," said Draco softly. He stood at the edge of the bed, not wanting to come forward unless prompted.

"Hey," Harry echoed, his voice faded and dull. The silence stretched out between them and Draco cleared his throat nervously. Harry looked up at him expectantly.

"Why didn't Pomfrey clean up your cuts?"

"She put stitches in them but it hurt too much when she touched me, I told her to just leave it."

"Oh." Draco bit his lip, the small stone bowl and flannel on the bedside catching his eye. He looked at Harry's blood streaked, pale face and said softly "Want me to do it?"

Harry looked away. He stared blankly at the bed sheets for a moment, and though Draco felt he could practically hear the cogs turning in his mind, he had no idea what Harry might actually be thinking.

Eventually he sighed, his breath shaky and painful, and nodded.

Approaching the bed, Draco picked up the stone bowl filled with clear water and set it down carefully on the flat surface of the bed sheets. He dipped the soft blue flannel into the water and sat slowly down beside the dark haired boy, feeling nervous and remorseful. He gently pressed the cloth to the other boys temple and Harry bit back a soft moan of pain, biting his lip, his eyes shining.

"Sorry," Draco whispered. "This is going to hurt a bit." He dabbed carefully at the skin around the wounds, gradually wiping away the blood, wincing in sympathy every time Harry bit down on his lip and stifled a cry of pain. He worked in silence, his spare hand running soothing strokes through Harry's unkempt hair. Harry's eyelashes fluttered and he nuzzled into the touch with a soft sigh. His lower lip trembled.

"You promised you'd wake me if I had a nightmare," he whispered, his eyes bright with tears. Draco sighed and lowered the cloth, twisting it guiltily between his fingers. He noticed four dark yellow bruises on Harry's broken arm, circular with a purpley mark in the centre. His cheeks flushed a dull pink.

"I know," he said softly. "Harry - I'm so sorry. I watched you, I did - but I was exhausted, I didn't mean to fall asleep -"

"You _promised_ me."

Draco stroked the back of his hand across Harry's cheek, and the dark boy winced. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, you must hate me so much."

Harry swallowed.

"My arm hurts," he mumbled, his voice trembling. "Can you just - lie down with me..?"

"Yeah," Draco set the bowl back on the table and lay down, reaching up to tug Harry into his arms. He shivered in the cold air, unheated by the sparse flickering torches on the walls. He wrapped his arms around the shaking boy lying beside him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Before Harry could reply the curtains were yanked backwards and Ron and Hermione came rushing up to them. Hermione's hair was wild and they were both flushed red and panting. In Ron's hand was a glass vial filled with a clear liquid like water. Harry quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. She skidded to a halt, her mouth open - taking in Harry's latest cuts and bruises, and the sling holding his arm. "What - what happened?"

"Nothing," said Harry firmly, quietly. "Just another dream - I'm fine."

"You let him fall asleep?" demanded Ron, glaring at Draco in outrage. Draco opened his mouth to retort but the glass vial caught his eye and he drew in a sharp breath, the question of why Harry always lied to his friends about his health forgotten in the face of a possible saviour.

"Is it finished?" he asked sharply, nodding to the potion.

"Yes," Hermione beamed. "Just now - we brought it straight here." She pulled it from Ron's grasp and passed it to Draco so she wouldn't accidentally touch Harry. Harry took it from the blonde boy with his good arm.

"It's definitely ready?" he asked, his voice still shaking, his eyes dark and nervous. "I mean… it definitely turned out okay?"

"It looks just like it ought to," Hermione said. "Perfectly clear - a little thicker than water. But you have to drink it now because it only lasts an hour or so, and then becomes useless."

Harry took a deep shaky breath. "Right," he murmured, feeling anxiety fluttering inside him, warring with the pain of his arm and the buzzing of his frayed nerves. He looked at Draco, who nodded, biting his lip.

"Go on," he said softly.

Harry uncorked the vial and gently shook it so that the liquid inside swirled. It was indeed just a little thicker than water, and it reflected the light from the cold hospital and the flickering flames so that it swirled with a pattern of orange and green that ceased when he closed his hand around the vial, blocking the light.

"Right," he said again, and lifted the glass to his lips, downing the potion in one.

The other three waited on tenterhooks as Harry drank, and watched him unblinkingly for any signs of change. The seconds ticked by and he felt nothing except a strange kind of warm stirring in his stomach.

"Is it working?" asked Ron in a hushed voice.

"I'm not… really sure. I can feel - something, I don't know if it's… how does it show you?"

"It reveals the strongest magical influence on you through the form of light," said Hermione. "I'm not sure how it shows you somebody far away - maybe in your head, or a shape of light…?"

"Are you okay?" Draco asked quietly, reaching out and covering Harry's hand with his own as he closed his eyes and swallowed, breathing harder as the seconds passed.

"I don't know - it feels strange," Harry gasped, wanting to put his good hand to his stomach but slightly afraid of pulling away from Draco's touch. He screwed his eyes tightly closed and concentrated on willing away the nausea that was building as the strange sensation swirled inside him like a gathering current. Small yellow dots popped in front of his closed eyes.

"Look," Hermione murmured. The tone of her voice sent a jolt of fear through him and he opened his eyes, retching slightly as the world span around him. He squinted against a rising glow of light and looked down to see a faint, swirling stream of yellow lights gathering in the air around him.

"What -?"

"Hermione, is this normal?" he asked fearfully, fighting the queasiness in his stomach.

"I think so," she said, amazed. "It's light - it's going to show us where the caster is!"

"What - are we going to have to follow it?" asked Ron, but Hermione shushed him and they watched in silence as the yellow light grew, becoming brighter and swirling gradually faster around him. Harry closed his eyes again, feeling sick.

He could feel something else besides the nausea, but he did not know what name to put to it. It was like a tingly, glowing feeling and a pull from an external source, drawing him in. He gripped Draco's fingers tightly with his own and felt the sensation ease.

"Oh my -" Hermione gasped, and a sharp intake of breath from Ron too made him open his eyes warily.

"What is it? Is there something -?"

He stopped. The glow was fading from around him, the sparkling light growing dull. But it was gathering somewhere else. Next to him on the bed a steady stream of yellow swirled and grew, and Draco put out his hands in amazement to watch the dancing light glow across his own skin. He stumbled backwards off the bed but the light followed him, clung to him, burned brighter as he stood staring at his own hands and down at his body, cloaked in a swirling mist of light.

"What -?" he whispered. He jerked his head up to look at Harry, and the dark haired boy stared at him, disbelief etched across his face. Draco shook his head, glancing from Harry to Ron to Hermione, and back again.

"Harry - w-what -?"

Harry stared at him, betrayal stabbing into his chest like a knife, sick with dread.

"You?" he whispered. "You did this to me?"

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**A/N: **Reviiiieeeeeeeeeew! If you're reading this - don't just read! Even if you hate it, let me know what sucks and I will learn from the experience and grow :) And if you love it then I would LOVE to hear from you. You will be thank you'd!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

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Chapter 27

"You did this to me?"

Draco stared at him, cold fear settling around his heart like frost. He felt frozen to the spot, completely in denial. This couldn't be happening. Wind whistled around the walls of the castle, deafening in the stunned silence. Hermione and Ron had ushered them both back into the confines of their small private room, away from watching eyes.

"Harry," he said, his eyes wide, his face pale. "Harry - _no_. I didn't - I don't know what this is! I didn't…"

He made to move towards Harry, to grab him, but Harry stumbled backwards off the bed and backed away, staring at the continuous ebb and flow of lights that encircled Draco, betrayal stabbing into his chest like a knife wound. Draco halted, his gaze burning into Harry's. He shook his head weakly.

"You can't possibly think that I…"

"The potion doesn't lie!" snarled Ron. He closed the gap between himself and Draco in two long strides and seized the blonde roughly by his collar. The yellow lights stuttered and flowed with Draco as he was whiplashed forwards. "What the hell have you done to him?"

"Get _off_ me! I haven't done anything!"

The two boys scuffled, a stream of yellow entwining around them, Draco yelling and pulling fiercely away as a clap of thunder resounded outside, and neither of them noticed as Harry raised a shaking hand to his chest and sank to the floor, his face deathly white.

"Stop it!" screamed Hermione. "Harry - are you okay? What's wrong?"

Harry raised trembling fingers to halt her as she made towards him. "Don't," he mumbled weakly. He felt nauseous, sickened and terribly lost. Like the safety blanket that had kept him safe for the past few weeks had been suddenly ripped away.

Malfoy wrenched himself out of Ron's grip and ran around the side of the bed towards Harry, sitting beside him and pulling the frail boy into his arms, careful of his bandaged arm. The bright lights slowly began to fade as they touched, and the swirl of yellow slowly diminished to nothing but dancing dots in front of Draco's eyes as he held a weakly protesting Harry in his arms. The room seemed strangely dark. The rain began to pick up outside.

"Are you okay?" Hermione repeated.

Harry nodded, burying his face in Draco's shirt. "It just hurt - when Ron grabbed him, that's all. I'm okay…"

He felt far from okay. Draco… how could Draco be the one to do this - after everything? It did not make any sense. He winced slightly as the cuts on his face rubbed against the fabric of Draco's shirt. His broken arm throbbed painfully.

"I don't understand," he whispered. Lifting his head, he gazed up at the blonde boy through a curtain of dark hair. "How can it have been you?"

Draco shook his head. "I didn't," he whispered earnestly. He bowed his head and their foreheads lightly touched. "Harry - I swear. I don't know why the potion is pointing to me, but I _swear_. I had nothing to do with it."

"Don't believe him, Harry," Ron hissed fiercely, wanting to stride forwards and tear the two boys away from each other. Knowing it would cause Harry pain was the only thing that stopped him from beating Malfoy senseless. "He's got you tricked - the potion doesn't lie!" he repeated. "It wouldn't show him unless he had something to do with it!"

"You must have done it wrong then, Weasley!" Draco snapped, and Hermione could practically see the vicious sparks flying between them as she stood perfectly still, her mind desperately racing.

"We didn't get it wrong - you've been cornered Malfoy, so give it up!"

"Why would I sit back for three weeks and let you create a revealing potion if I'd been the one to cast the spell?" Draco glared at Ron, and a triumphant gleam of hope sparked through him when no answer was immediately forthcoming. He used the window of opportunity to turn back to the boy in his arms, still slightly shaking and looking terribly confused.

"Harry," he said urgently, and Harry lifted his head so that their eyes met. Draco drew a deep breath and decided to lay all his cards on the table. He leaned in and captured Harry's lips in a soft, fervent kiss.

Heat flared between them in a split second, and Draco could feel Harry growing painfully aroused within seconds, as his own desire grew from a spark to a storm instantly. He pulled the dark haired boy in closer and could not stop a soft sound of pleasure slipping from him at the feel of Harry's lips against his own. Harry kissed him back, clinging desperately to this tiny glimmer of comfort. No matter what was happening, what Draco might have done, Harry was hopelessly attracted to him, and the feel of his kiss and the arms surrounding him was consoling, and soothing. He moaned in protest when Draco slowed and pulled away, trying to control his breathing.

"Harry," he whispered, nuzzling his face into soft, dark hair. "You have to believe me -" he drew back slightly and intense grey eyes burned into stormy green ones. Draco had not said a word and yet had never been so open with his feelings. Harry wanted desperately to believe him. "I don't know what's happening here - but I had nothing to do with that curse."

"Don't believe him!" Ron hissed.

"I don't know if the potion went wrong, or it was only drawn to me because of the effect I had on you, but I _promise, _Harry -"

"_Don't listen to him_!"

"Shut up!" Draco snarled. "Harry -" he dropped his voice, and leaned in to press a momentary, soft kiss on Harry's lips. "You know how I feel about you," he said quietly, and a dull flush of pink crept onto his pale cheeks. "I swear I had nothing to do with this."

"You let him fall asleep again and left him at the mercy of that _thing_!"

Draco opened his mouth, and closed it. He felt stung. "That was an accident," he said angrily.

Harry looked up at him, trying to discern the expression on his face. He looked over at Ron, who shook his head urgently, and at Hermione, who was gazing at the floor with a vacant expression, apparently lost in thought.

"I wouldn't have let them make that potion of it had been me who cast the spell," Draco repeated. "I wouldn't have gone all the way to the Manor to fetch the ashtavarga. I wouldn't have taken care of you for the past three weeks if really I wanted this curse to hurt you! _Think_ about it Harry - none of this adds up!"

The truth of what the potion had shown warred with what Harry wanted to believe, and silence crept into the room for a moment, broken only by the howl of wind outside and the drum of rain onto the castle roof. Exhaustion throbbed in his mind. He felt worse since the few stolen hours of sleep, it had only made him feel more weak than ever. His body ached, and the numbing potion he had taken was wearing off, the pain of his broken arm beginning to prickle through. The sounds from outside pressing down around them made the room feel small and surreal.

"Harry," Draco said softly. "Please. I had nothing to do with any of this."

Harry gazed up into earnest grey eyes as he sat in the warm embrace of strong pale arms, feeling the heat of Draco through the soft fabric of his shirt. He tilted his face up to kiss the blonde boy for a few brief seconds, and then he tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind Draco's ear, and nodded.

"I believe you," he whispered.

"_What_? Harry - are you fucking serious?" Ron bellowed.

"Weasley if you just open your eyes for a _second _it's obvious that none of this makes sense!"

"I don't care! You're brainwashing him, you've got him under some spell that makes him deluded enough to think you might be innocent in all this! I mean, he _kissed_ you for gods sake -" Ron's face twisted in disgust. "That's proof enough, isn't it? Harry would never touch you in a million years and you _know_ it!"

"I've been taking care of him for the past three weeks! He'd be dead right now if it wasn't for me!"

"He'll probably be dead soon anyway if your curse works out right!"

"I _didn't_ put that damn curse on him, Weasley -"

"The potion showed you as the strongest magical influence on him!" yelled Ron, his face as red as his hair. His hands were balled into shaking fists. Harry had never seen him so furious. "The only conclusion is that _you_ cast that spell!"

"Unless…" Hermione mumbled suddenly, raising a hand and dragging it distractedly through her wild hair, looking almost oblivious to the raging argument she had interrupted.

"Unless what?" Ron snapped.

Hermione bit her lip, looking up at Draco, holding Harry as the dark boy sat slumped against him, still breathing heavily, his eyes screwed closed in an attempt to block out the shouting. Wild theories chased each other through her head like flashes of lightning.

"Maybe… it doesn't mean the strongest influence on Harry is Malfoy. Maybe Malfoy is just… a link."

"A link?" Ron spat. "A link to what? Don't tell me you believe him too!"

Draco stared at her, his fingers unconsciously tightening their grip around Harry as the first numb spark of realisation went through him.

"Maybe whoever cast this spell is connected to him somehow."

"What, you mean he knows whoever put the spell on Harry?"

"No - it would have to be a really strong connection for the potion to recognise him," she said softly. "Stronger than just knowing them." Her gaze connected with Draco's and a silent, dreadful acknowledgement passed between them. She felt her heart drop like a stone. Harry's eyes were on her and she could feel the confusion in his gaze but could not bring herself to look at him. "Strong like a connection by blood," she said quietly.

Ron let out a sharp gasp. Harry closed his eyes, defeated. Draco merely continued to stare up at her from the floor. His face was pale. His expression, usually so able to wipe any trace of emotion away and present a picture of blank unfeeling towards the world, was one of shock and denial. He stood up quickly, pulling himself from Harry's grasp. He suddenly could not bear to be near the dark haired boy. He felt dark fear pressing in on the edges of his mind, clouding his vision, and he turned sharply to Hermione and said, his voice soft;

"My father."

--

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**A/N: **Thankies to:

**blAiseCoRRupt, ive-already-seen-hell, Cailleac, Sakura, Lyssa, Nagini Potter, Rika'sGrayWolf, HyperMint, SwarmOfFanGirls, pennheadbelivesinfaries, njferrell, iamiam, evildictionaryninja, amber v, DawnPapaya, Secluded Angel 33,** **xkohleyesx, DcMaddoxx, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, xXCaRaXx, Tarkemelhion, yaoi gravi girl, LunaParvulus, luckycharm9, Medicinal Biscuit, yngblkguy**. Lots of new reviewers which I'm thrilled about :D - not that I don't adore my regulars of course! Next chapter up tomorrow!


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

**A/N: **Real life loves to get in my way D: It has been tooooo long, I'm sorry!

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Chapter 28

After the initial shock of discovery, realisations of truth had begun to hit Draco one by one like bullets. Ron and Hermione had dashed from the room to find Professor Dumbledore, and Draco had stood perfectly still, his extremities numb and his insides fused into one twisted, sickened wire of fear. His father… on the run, untraceable by the law, perfectly concealed for casting a curse. No ordinary wizard could break so easily into Malfoy Manor, with such small trace of entry. But for the man who owned the house it was as simple as walking through the front door.

The glittering yellow that had encircled him after Harry had drank the potion, and the swirling yellow lights he had seen inside Malfoy Manor.

"It all makes sense," he muttered numbly, and had looked around, startled, when Harry let out a groan and sank to the bed, fingers shaking as he pressed his good hand to his burning forehead.

"I remember," he said softly. "Yellow light - before I passed out, that night the curse was cast on me. And someone covered in robes, like I saw in my nightmares. Like you saw at the Manor."

"My father."

Draco felt sick. He could not begin to input into his mind the huge notion of his own father being the creator of all this. He felt lost, cast adrift and scrabbling weakly at the edges of a truth too complex for him to even begin to understand. Why had Lucius done this? What did he possibly stand to gain from it? And _why_ had he made Draco such a huge part in it? To punish him for something? Or was he being given the opportunity to act, to overpower the boy who was completely at his mercy? Surely his father would have contacted him if he expected such deeds.

He did not understand. He sat hesitantly down on the edge of the bed and studied the exhausted boy beside him. Harry's face was pale and drawn, his eyes seemed huge against the dark outline of shadows surrounding them. His broken arm cradled against his chest in a thin white sling, and his skin was a map of thin lacerations and scars. Draco looked at the defeated, broken boy he used to hate so much, and felt so desperately sorry that he wanted to cry.

"I didn't know," he mumbled. "Harry -" he reached out a hand and Harry pulled sharply away. He stood up, wincing, and turned to gaze out of the window.

--

Ron and Hermione tore down the corridor, loud footsteps sending heavy, resounding echoes across the stone. A stitch tore at Hermione's insides and she could barely keep up with Ron. They _had _to find Dumbledore. The hospital wing was on the other side of the castle to the Headmasters office, and running staved off some of the thoughts and feelings crowding around the edge of her mind. All she could feel was a sort of numb disbelief, tinged with a thousand emotions of fear and anger, anxiety and pity. She could not possibly begin to dissect each feeling.

It was night, and they passed no student or teacher, not even a ghost as they sprinted through the dark school, as moonlight shone weakly through the large windows and left squares of silvery grey on the stone. Hermione inwardly prayed they would not come across Peeves or Mr. Filch.

They hurtled round a corridor and the stone gargoyles that guarded the office came into sight. The rumbling, winding sound of the staircase could be heard and they gasped in unison when Dumbledore stepped off the bottom stair and into view, cloaked in robes of deep emerald green.

"Professor!" gasped Ron, as they skidded to a halt.

Dumbledore turned to them, looking thoroughly surprised.

"Good evening Mr Weasley, Miss Granger - out a little late aren't we?" he took in their flushed red faces, frowning as Hermione gasped for breath, clutching her side.

"Something has happened?" he asked softly. Ron nodded and he turned sharply on his heel and motioned for them to follow him back up the spiral staircase, the grinding of stone seeming unnaturally loud in the silence of the sleeping castle. Ron bent over to catch his breath and began to explain to the headmaster what they had seen.

The inside of the office was dimly lit, a few twisting candles burning as they bobbed gently up and down in mid-air, making the complex silver instruments scattered across the room glimmer as they rotated with a low creak or puffed small clouds of coloured smoke. Dumbledore strode over to the large ornate fireplace and gathered a handful of green powder from a small pot on the mantle. He threw it into the flames, which roared and turned a bright green, and into which Dumbledore lowered his head and called "Remus!"

The flames licked higher as the dark, spinning form of Remus Lupin appeared, stumbling out of the fireplace and dusting ash from his shabby robes.

"Dumbledore - it's late, what's happened?"

"Perhaps Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger can explain it," said Professor Dumbledore. Ron swallowed and began to hurriedly inform them.

"We made the potion - the revealing potion we told you about," he nodded to Lupin. "We just finished it, we gave it to Harry - it showed Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." The two adults rose their eyebrows in synchronicity.

"But we figured it out," Hermione spoke. "It's a link - to the person who cast the spell. To -"

"Lucius Malfoy," said Dumbledore heavily.

"Yes. And we know where he is! He's at the Malfoy Manor."

"How can you possibly know…?"

Hermione paused here, wondering how much of a reprimand they would receive for telling the truth. She hesitated, and the wind howled outside, rattling the window latches and whistling in through the cracks in the stone, making the tiny candle flames stutter. She swallowed. There was no time to skirt around the truth, not now.

She told them how Malfoy had crept out of the castle, leaving Harry, to find the necessary potions ingredient. How he had seen the yellow lights and come face to face with the figure hiding in the mansion. How they had made the connection between all of these things - the cloaked figure, the yellow light, the spell.

Remus and Professor Dumbledore stared at them both, taken aback.

"That was an _incredibly_ dangerous thing to do," said Remus quietly. "What if Malfoy had been killed - we would not have been able to save Harry -"

"But what choice did we have?" asked Ron. "And now it means we know where Lucius Malfoy is hiding - we can stop him!"

"You seem to have imparted some Gryffindor spirit into the young Malfoy," said Dumbledore, the faintest twinkle in his eye. "And perhaps your reckless behaviour is a blessing. Remus… are you willing to go -?"

"Of course."

"I will stay here and make the necessary arrangements."

"Right," said Remus, and Ron and Hermione stared at them.

"Wait - what? Arrangements?" Ron repeated, confused. "What's going on?"

"Lucius Malfoy must be apprehended," Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "And brought back to the castle to lift the spell that he has placed on Harry -"

"Bring him _here_?" repeated Ron. "To Hogwarts? Sir, he's a Death Eater - what if he escapes, what if -"

"That is why I will be remaining behind," Dumbledore cut across him, rather sharply. "To ensure the safety of every single person in this castle. There is no option but to bring Malfoy here - we cannot take Harry to him, he is too unwell. Remus -" he turned to Lupin now, his voice low and urgent. "Go to the Malfoy Manor, and use every possible caution. Perhaps he is not alone, perhaps disturbing him could cause unforetold damage. We still know very little about the curse he has placed on Harry."

Remus nodded, his face pale.

"But you can't go alone!" said Hermione fearfully. "Professor - what about the other Aurors, surely he needs back up?"

"Time is of the essence, Hermione," said Remus patiently. "Every second wasted may mean Lucius Malfoy is slipping from our grasp. Suppose he has means of knowing when he is discovered?"

"But you _can't - _it's too dangerous to go alone!"

"I'll go," came a sudden voice from beside her and she turned, open-mouthed, to stare at the tall, pale figure of Ron, clutching his wand at the ready, his face set.

"Mr. Weasley. You are a student of this school, a minor -"

"I'm seventeen!" Ron said fiercely to the headmaster. "I'm of age - and Harry's my best friend!"

"It is far too dangerous for me to allow you to go."

"But you'll send Remus off on his own? And what do we do - just sit here doing nothing, waiting to see if Harry lives or dies? We can help!" Ron said angrily. "Hermione can help you with the protection spells, with guarding the castle - and I can go with Remus! We stand a better chance of catching Malfoy if there's two of us!"

"Perhaps they're right, Albus," came Remus' hesitant voice. "They are of age, they can be of assistance."

"Please, Professor," Hermione spoke quietly. "Let us help."

Dumbledore studied the two young wizards, both drawn and tired-looking, Ron with his wand grasped tightly in his hand, his countenance pale and determined.

"You're certain you wish to go?" he asked Ron. "Be mindful of the dangers before you leap to your friends' rescue."

"I'm sure."

The headmaster sighed. "Your mother would have me hanged if she knew," he said softly. "Very well."

--

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A/N: Huge, huge, interplanetary love goes to **eleventy7** (you're right about the spelling mistake, I've corrected it now. Thankyou for your lovely review!) **evildictionaryninja, SwarmOfFanGirls, DcMaddoxx, The GirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, Cailleac, forevrlostinme, luckycharm9, Medicinal Biscuit, Nagini Potter, LunaParvulus, WelshCelticMoon, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Secluded Angel 33, DawnPapaya **and **Sakura**. I really am sorry for making you wait so long :(


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

**A/N: **Another new chapter, in an attempt to make you not hate me.

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Chapter 29

As Lupin and Ron prepared to depart on the far side of Hogwarts castle, silence had fallen in the tiny hospital room that had been Harry and Draco's home for the past three weeks. Harry sat in his usual position on the window ledge, forehead pressed against the cold frosted glass, his eyes closed. Pain bit into his broken arm and he hugged himself tight with the other. Draco sat on the bed, gazing up at the dark haired boy, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say.

He thought of the boiling anger when this situation had first been forced upon him, how difficult it had been to push away six years of burning hatred and call a temporary truce. How he had wanted to scream every time Potter said something he disagreed with. The sight of Potter so defenceless had made him feel ill, had called everything he knew into question. Potter was _Potter_, there was nothing he could not fight. Draco had had to re-evaluate so many things, and the truths that he had stumbled across had been startling.

Harry was lonely. Harry was frightened. Harry was full of tentative smiles and surprising insights, he bled like a normal human being. He was not a superhero, or the sole cause of every wrong in Draco's life.

Draco had taken care of him, begrudgingly at first, then with a feeling of smug superiority. The most rewarding and frightening moments had come in at the end, when Draco had begun to really care for his patient, and to realise there was something there worth saving not purely to meet his own needs. He wanted to get to know Harry from the inside out, with no curses, nothing binding them together except the desire to be close.

He sighed. Word had been sent from the headmasters office, telling them of the plan to capture Lucius Malfoy and bring him back to Hogwarts. Harry had not spoken since. Draco felt nauseous, anxiety gnawed at his insides, still tinged with the faint echoes of disbelief. He just did not _understand._ For three weeks his life had been a whirlwind of emotions, of anger, fear, hesitant admiration, denial. To think his own father had been the creator of all of this… why? Was it to help Draco? To harm him? Or had it been unintentional that his son had been pulled into this mess?

He cleared his throat nervously.

"Harry," he said softly. "Don't worry about Lupin and Weasley, they'll be fine."

Harry did not move. Draco could not see his face from where he sat, only the narrow slope of his back and scruffy black hair with a white knot of bandages underneath, tying Harry's sling.

"You think so?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah."

Silence. Draco cast around for something else to say. He felt guilty, like it was his fault Lucius had done this, like he ought to have somehow known. He did not know whose side to take in this battle. Reassuring Harry was one thing - but what if Lupin and Weasley really were going to succeed? That was good for Harry but it meant the capture of Draco's father, it meant the Malfoy name being dragged through the mud again, and a lifetime of imprisonment for Lucius. If Malfoy senior could not be apprehended, though… that spelled certain destruction for Harry. It meant clinging on and trying to stay awake for as long as he could, just waiting to succumb to the inevitable and be murdered at the hands of Lord Voldemort's right hand man.

It seemed Harry was thinking along similar lines.

"I was so stupid," he said in a quiet, hoarse voice. "I really thought that with Voldemort gone… everything would just be happily ever after. I can't believe I thought everything surrounding him would just go away." He blinked fiercely, his eyes shining, unseen by Draco. "Because it's not just Voldemort, is it? It's everything - the Death Eaters, the supporters, your father…" his voice broke and Draco pulled himself up off the bed towards him.

"Hey…" he said softly. He took a seat on the wide ledge beside the dark haired boy, who wiped his eyes on his sleeve, his breathing unsteady.

"I'm so _tired_," he whispered.

Draco wrapped his arms around the other boys shoulders, pulling him over into an embrace. Harry clung to him, hands clenching around fistfuls of fabric. Draco buried his face in thick dark hair and closed his eyes.

"I swear I didn't know," he whispered.

Harry sniffed and nodded. "I know," he muttered, and turned his face upwards, kissing Draco heatedly, wanting to drown in the embrace and forget everything else. He moaned softly. Draco gripped him tighter.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, pulling away. Their foreheads rested together and Draco leaned in to steal another soft kiss.

"Hmm - what?"

"Your father… and me. What if they catch him?"

Draco tensed. He knew what he was being asked. You father, or me? Could he turn his back on his father, his upbringing, everything he had been taught… or on Harry, and whatever it was that they had, or could have. Did he want Lucius… or Harry?

--

The gates to the grounds creaked and swung in the winter wind as Ron and Lupin passed through them, shivering in the cold night air. The dark silhouettes of winged boars towered over them, blocking out the few scattered stars that peeked through drifting black cloud. Ron gripped his wand tightly, turning to Remus, who nodded.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah." Ron stepped out into the grass beyond the school boundaries, feeling his nerves clench. With a final affirming glance at his companion, he rotated sharply on the spot, feeling his way into nothingness and Apparating away from Hogwarts.

--

He landed with an unexpected bump and fell to the ground. The smell of grass filled his nostrils. Remus appeared with a pop and hauled Ron to his feet.

They studied their surroundings. A dark lane, bordered with tall, leafless trees that rose high over them and twisted their skeletal branches into a dark canopy. High, wrought-iron gates blocked a sweeping driveway, at the end of which loomed a large gothic mansion, the Malfoy Manor. It was so different to the home where Ron grew up and he gazed at the spiralling mass of towers with growing fear prickling across his spine.

"Those gates won't open for us," said Remus softly. "I wouldn't like to think what might happen if anyone tried to force them. We'll go over the wall."

Ron nodded.

"Carefully, now," Remus breathed as they hoisted themselves up into low branches, Ron first, scrambling over the high stone wall. He scrunched his eyes shut.

"It's a long way to the ground."

"It's not too late to change your mind, Ron."

He closed his mouth, not answering. Manoeuvring himself into the branches that hung lowest over the dark grounds of the Malfoy Manor, he screwed up his courage and dropped to the grass with a painful thud.

Panic momentarily overwhelmed him as he waited, frozen, for alarms to sound and guard dogs to come firing towards them. A thud came from beside him and Remus dragged him to his feet again. They surveyed the dark grounds, utterly silent except for the drive of cold night wind through the brittle branches.

"Fairly lax security," said Remus softly.

"Kinda makes you nervous."

They made their way quietly up the lawn, once neatly clipped but now wild with tangled dead grass, past dry stone fountains and up to the large wooden door, leaning slightly ajar.

"Why is he hiding in his own house?" Ron whispered. "Surely that's the first place the Ministry would search for him?"

"It was. They found nothing except for evidence that the Malfoys had made a very swift escape after Voldemort's downfall. The Ministry set alarms to alert them if anybody came back - but they had more pressing matters on their minds, like the massive cover up from the Muggle world that needed implementing. Malfoy could easily have removed any charms placed around the house, and now he's hidden in plain sight - they don't think he'd be foolish enough to come back here so they don't bother to check."

Remus fell silent as he pushed the door silently open, and the smell of dust and decomposition escaped the room. They stepped into the gloomy entrance hall and the heavy door closed behind them with a quiet click, enveloping them in darkness.

Very little moonlight filtered through the grime streaked windows of the abandoned house. They could just make out thick layers of dust on every surface and strings of silvery cobwebs hanging from the high ceiling as they squinted into the shadows, waiting for their eyes to adjust. Ron could tell even through the darkness and dust that the room was ornate and impressive. Not a sound could be heard from anywhere in the house - there were no signs to suggest the presence of other wizards.

"Malfoy said he was in the office, near the back of the house," Ron breathed, signalling Remus towards the adjoining hallway, his heart thudding so loud he wondered if it would give them away. His mouth felt dry and his senses were tightly strung like wires, ringing with fear. The whole house seemed like a dark, looming presence, watching them as they crept noiselessly towards the office. Sharp eyes in old, worn portraits appeared to follow them as they passed, and Ron silently thanked the dust that lay thickly on the dark carpets and polished wood floors, muffling their footsteps. He squinted in the distant shadows, afraid a cloaked black figure would leap out at any second. His hand tightened around his wand.

He glanced over at Remus, who nodded encouragingly. As they moved further into the darkness they became aware of a reflection of light shimmering dimly on the walls. Ron felt every muscle in his body tense.

No outside light permeated this far back, and with every door around them closed, the only source of light were the faint reflections of yellow that grew steadily brighter with every step. They carefully rounded a corner and Ron had to hold in a gasp.

It was evident which room was the office. The door was closed but bright light gleamed out through the cracks surrounding the frame, spinning and dancing on the opposite wall and burning their eyes in the surrounding darkness. Lupin motioned Ron forward with a wave of his hand.

"We won't have much time," he breathed, not daring to lift his voice above a barely audible whisper. No sounds came from inside the brightly lit room. "I'll open the door, and we'll Stupify him together, okay?"

Ron nodded. He swallowed hard, his throat sticking. He sidestepped a small wooden cabinet against the wall, his mind screaming not to bump into it like Malfoy had done. Hardly daring to breathe, he screwed up his courage as Remus took a careful step forward and placed his hand on the office door.

"On the count of three…"

Remus pointed his wand in the direction of the hidden room, his eyes watering against the blinding glare of yellow light seeping through the edges of the door.

"One…"

Ron tensed his body, waiting for the moment to spring. He thought of Harry, helpless in the hospital wing, clinging to this final hope.

"Two…"

Remus unconsciously held his breath, his senses heightened, his heart pounding painfully hard.

"Three!"

The door crashed open. Nearly blinded by the light that spilled out over them, Ron charged into the office. A figure cloaked in black robes in the centre of the room span round, wand raised.

"Stupefy!" they roared, and identical jets of red light shot through the spinning yellow, striking the shrouded figure in the chest. Ron watched, adrenaline screaming, as Lucius Malfoy crumpled to the floor, unconscious, and the dancing yellow light began to slowly ebb and fade into darkness.

--

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**A/N: **Hope you like! it's all getting a bit exciting, isn't it? I was really happy to revisit the Malfoy Manor, I love writing about the contrasting imagery of gorgeous yet decaying :)

Thankyou times a million to **TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, Lady Sakura**, and **Secluded Angel**. The fact that it's been ages since I posted but you guys are still excited about this makes me so so so SO happy :)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns everything, I'm just borrowing.

**A/N: **Are you guys getting email alerts for new chapters? I'm not getting them for reviews D:

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"What are you going to do, Professor?" asked Hermione, her face ashen, her nerves shaking. Both of her friends were in danger and she could do nothing except wait, and pray they were going to be alright. She had followed the headmaster down into a deserted corner of the dungeons, until all distant sounds of life had faded away and they came across a long, dark and empty chamber she had never seen before. She watched as Dumbledore stepped inside, pulled out his wand and lit it wordlessly. The bright gleam glittered on wet black stone, and the sound of dripping water echoed throughout the chamber. There were no windows, no torches burning in high brackets on the walls. The only source of light was the tiny flare from Professor Dumbledore's wand.

"As you know, there are certain spells placed over Hogwarts that prevent the castle been broken into," said Dumbledore softly. "It ensures we stay secure from any outside threat. This concept can be reversed, so that a building or a room can not be broken out of without the permission of the spell caster. We can confine Lucius to a specific corner of this dungeon, if we so desire."

Hermione nodded. She watched silently as the headmaster raised his wand, sweeping it through the air. A curve of clear, coloured light arced from the tip, glowing vibrantly for a moment before slowly fading. A strong ripple of air pushed at them, making the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. Every move of his wand created a different colour. It sent spots of light dancing across Hermione's eyes and reminded her of Muggle children on Bonfire Night using sparklers to draw patterns of light in mid air. She felt she could almost sense the rush of the spells, feel the security of the dungeon tightening. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she dared not interrupt Dumbledore in his work. She prayed Remus and Ron were alright.

He worked in silence for roughly ten more minutes. Long arcs of clear light momentarily lit up the shadows before dissolving into darkness. Vibrant colours reflected off dark water pooled on the black stone floor and sent shadows moving across the ceiling, distorting the long, empty dungeon. At last he stepped back, a satisfied glint in his eye.

"Is it… safe?" she breathed.

"Nothing is ever certain," Dumbledore said quietly. "But I believe we have sufficient means to detain Mr. Malfoy for as long as we may need to."

"What about the Ministry of Magic?"

"We will inform them once we have all the necessary information. Until then I would rather not involve them in anything that concerns Harry's wellbeing or safety."

"Because of Mr. Fudge?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "As you know, Fudge is no longer… favourably inclined towards Harry. Too many incidents have occurred, too many bridges burned. And while I do not think Cornelius would purposely cause harm to Harry… I doubt his judgement in matters such as this."

Hermione nodded. Dumbledore drew his wand once more and conjured several small, glowing spheres of light which rose slowly, bobbing up and down just below the ceiling. Light shone into the oppressive dungeon, relieving some of Hermione's fear. But the shadows it chased into distant corners seemed sharper, darker, more pronounced. Cold air nipped at her exposed face and hands. She shivered.

"Are you certain you wish to remain here when Lucius is brought in?" Professor Dumbledore asked. "Perhaps you should return to Harry and Draco - I'm sure they want to be kept posted."

Hermione hesitated. While she wanted to make sure Ron and Remus were safe, she could not deny that the thought of watching a murderous Death Eater dragged into this icy, dark dungeon room made cold fear settle over her heart. She did not think she wanted to see what deranged state a killer looked like after so many months in flight from the Ministry. Glancing up at Dumbledore cautiously, she was relieved to see him smile and incline his head.

"Go," he said, and she nodded. With the headmasters permission, she stepped out of the cold, oppressive dark of the dungeon, and headed for the infirmary.

--

Back in the small, private hospital room, silence had fallen over the two boys. Harry sat in his usual position on the windowsill, knees pulled up to his chest, staring absently out past the rain spotted glass into the grounds, saturated with water, the swollen lake creeping closer to the castle with every passing, rainy day.

Draco sat beside him, not touching him, fiddling aimlessly at the hem of his sleeve as he tried to put his thoughts into an understandable order. Harry's question hung unanswered in the air, and no reply was forthcoming because honestly he did not know how to answer it.

To turn his back on his father, his upbringing, his entire life before these three recent weeks… he did not know if he was brave enough to do that. The Malfoys stood by the side of the Dark Lord, that was rule number one, it had been pressed into him for as far back as he could remember. Lie to conceal your nature, act as though you have forgotten the Death Eater ways, present an image of penitence to the outside world… but always, _always_ be true in your heart to the cause, to Lord Voldemort. To disregard all of this was a frightening notion. He would have to leave behind his family, his childhood, his wealth… if Lucius were to find him he would surely kill him.

He had suffered three weeks of infuriation, of torture, he had hated nearly every second spent in the company of his Gryffindor patient. And yet… to turn his back on Harry… to deny himself whatever it was they had, or could have…

That seemed worse.

He was pulled from his tangled thoughts by a gentle knock at the door. Granger peered her head into the room, looking pale and weary. She smiled at them both.

"They're not back yet," she said hoarsely. "We haven't heard anything. Dumbledore's just preparing a room in the dungeons for Mal - for your father," she said hastily to Draco.

"Right," he said, his voice brittle. He stood up suddenly, feeling Harry's gaze on him as he paced up and down, filled with a panicked, nauseous energy. He turned sharply and spoke to the room at large.

"I need to see him."

"What?" Harry stared at him, appalled. "Why?"

"He's my _father_."

"And what do you think is going to happen?" the dark haired boy asked, his voice quiet, hard. His eyes were like two dark pebbles, flat and dull. "Some touching father-son reunion? They're going to _arrest_ him, Draco."

"I know that!" he snapped. "But - I just… I _have_ to see him." He looked at Harry pleadingly. "I have to know why he made me a part of this. What I was supposed to _do_ -"

"Do? It's your father, Malfoy - I think your objective is pretty clear!"

"If he wanted me to kill you why didn't he tell me? Why did he make it so that I can help you?"

"You can't go!" Hermione said shrilly, startling them both. "You can't leave Harry again!"

"I won't be gone long," Draco said, ignoring Hermione, speaking directly to Harry. "And I won't be far away. But I need to see him."

Harry stared up at him reproachfully. He pulled his broken arm closer into himself, dark hair falling into dull, blank eyes.

"So this is your choice?" he said softly.

Draco gaped at him. His choice…?

"No," he replied. They merely stared at each other for a moment. Draco could feel his heart rate increasing and his skin tingling with a mixture of emotions. Fear, nerves, a certain shyness, a tentative smile. Thunder rumbled across the cold sky outside. He opened his mouth hesitantly, words on the tip of his tongue.

Hermione moved ever so slightly, shifting her weight to the other foot. Draco caught it from the corner of his eye and snapped back into a painful self-awareness, feeling his face flush. He turned on his heel and strode towards the door. Just like last time, he did not look back.

--

Professor Dumbledore paced the dark dungeon room, pulling at the invisible threads of the spells he had cast, testing their strength. Silence pressed against his eardrums, broken only by the clip of his heel on the wet stone floor, echoing dimly throughout the long chamber. The spheres of light bobbed slowly up and down near the ceiling, making the edges of shadows constantly change and distort, pulling back and forth like a tide. The room was soundproofed and not possible to leave without his permission.

The sudden crash of the heavy dungeon door opening would have startled him, had he not been expecting it. Two men staggered into the room, supporting a third unconscious body between them. Light and dark flitted across the black cloaked silhouette as it was dragged across the cold room.

"We found him," Ron gasped unnecessarily. A stitch burned in his ribs and he hoisted the body onto one shoulder, wiping sweat from his face with the sleeve of his spare arm. Remus had a fresh tear in his shabby robes and he too was breathless.

"What happened?"

"He was in the Manor like Ron and Hermione said," Remus panted. The two men heaved the limp form against the damp wall, where it slid slowly downwards and the black hood caught on the rough stone, pulling back and revealing at last the man behind the dark, lifeless cloak; Lucius Malfoy.

There was a collective intake of breath. Ron stared down at the once-familiar figure in revulsion. Malfoy's features were painfully emaciated, the stark shadows of the room made his countenance look unnaturally sharp. His long hair was matted and no longer the sleek blonde but a dull, coarse grey. His face was drained of any colour, not dirty but paler than any face Ron had ever seen, and his body was whipcord thin under the black cloak.

"He was hiding out in the study - we ambushed him," continued Remus. "Stunned him before he had the chance to act."

It had been a close call, thought Ron. His heart squeezed at the remembrance of his bare terror as they stormed into the office, almost blinded by the swirling yellow light that filled the entire room, twisting and shining from the centre of the room; from Malfoy's wand. The hooded figure had whirled around and they had only a half second to act - Ron shuddered to think what might have happened if they'd slipped up, somehow missed. They would surely both be dead by now.

"Is it safe here, Albus?"

"The room is bound," said the headmaster softly. "It cannot be exited without my authorisation."

Remus nodded. "What are you going to do?"

"Question him."

"Without Veritaserum?" asked Ron.

"Lucius is cornered and exposed beyond any doubt. I cannot think of any justification he could furnish. I believe he will tell us what we need to know."

Dumbledore raised his wand once more, murmuring a string of incomprehensible, fluid words and a smooth beam of coloured light curved in a semi-circle around Lucius Malfoy's slumped form. Then he crouched down beside the body, pressed his wand to the wasted chest and muttered "Ennervate."

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A/N: I can't believe I've written thirty chapters! It's SO unlike me to stick at a fic for this long - but I'm really glad I have. Love to **Lady Sakura, Rika'sGrayWolf, evildictionaryninja, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, eleventy7, Custard Apple, Dezra, EmoNekoNinja, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Dawn Papaya, xkohleyesx, Cailleac, Nagini Potter, SwarmOfFanGirls, harry-potters-sister, Witchgirl8 **and **Secluded Angel 33**. You guys are the best.

Also… I've been trying to upload this to fictionalley but I just can't make it work D: I don't suppose anybody can help me out?


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly I do not own Harry Potter. If I did Harry and Draco would've got it on years ago, and Remus Lupin would never have died. Although Tonks still would have.

**A/N: **There's explanations afoot!

If anyone is into Loveless I wrote a quickie one-shot the other day called Autumn, I'd like to know what you guys think of it :) /shameless plugging.

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Chapter 31

Nothing happened for perhaps twenty seconds after Dumbledore muttered the awakening spell. Ron stared down at the unconscious, frightening looking form of Lucius Malfoy slumped against the damp stone wall, shrouded in thin black robes. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest, his nerves tightened to breaking point as they waited in the dark silence for something to happen. There was no sound except for that of their own breathing and the steady drip of water onto the cold floor.

"What if he doesn't wake?" whispered Remus.

Dumbledore crouched to the floor and prodded Malfoy gently with the tip of his long wand. Ron held his breath, adrenaline bursting through his veins. He saw cold eyes open the slightest crack and flick to the side, taking in the situation in less than a second.

"Professor - watch out!" he cried.

Malfoy leapt suddenly forwards, on his feet before any of them could register it. His body went from limp to a coiled spring in under three seconds. With a snarl of rage he slammed into the invisible spell barrier, sending crackles of coloured light fizzing into the darkness. Spots danced in front of Ron's eyes.

Professor Dumbledore took a calm step backwards.

"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley," he said. "Lucius cannot escape."

Malfoy threw himself against the forcefield of the binding spell, his eyes dark and full of hatred. He growled and yelled and Ron stood rooted to the spot, paralysed by fear and a morbid fascination. The echoing click of the dungeon door opening sent a bolt of confused panic through him and he turned to see Draco Malfoy stepping into the dark chamber, his face pale and drawn.

Draco's gaze fell upon his restrained father, and he stopped in the doorway. His eyes widened, a storm of emotions flickering across his usually blank face.

"Father?" he whispered.

Lucius' eyes lit upon his son, and he ceased straining against the invisible bonds that held him. He slumped exhaustedly back against the cold wall, his thin frame heaving, drawing in painful rattling breaths. Sweat ran across his skin, his eyes dark and empty. He began to laugh, a slow, drawn out chuckle that seemed to answer all their questions about his sanity. His laughter echoed throughout the long, shadowed dungeon and made the hairs on the back of Ron's neck stand up, and uneasy fear trickle down his spine.

"Draco," said the headmaster. "You should not be here. Harry needs you, and I did not wish you to see this."

"He's my father," Draco said, his voice quiet, brittle and uncertain. He stepped cautiously into the room, frightened of the figure he had known so well that now stood before him, a shadow of his former self. Lucius stared relentlessly into his eyes, laughing his ceaseless, maniacal laugh. Draco wanted to turn and run. This could not possibly be his father, this wasted, hollow madman trapped in a dark corner of Hogwarts castle, captured and bound, his sanity shattered, his appearance ruined.

"Lucius," spoke Dumbledore in a clear, commanding voice. Lucius snapped his head round so fast it made Draco wince, and the laughter was cut off so abruptly it seemed someone had turned the sound off in the room.

"Professor Dumbledore," he snarled, his voice hoarse and weakened from misuse. Cold, dark eyes flitted continually across the room, scrutinising faces, searching for a weak spot, a getaway. Draco stood and watched his father, feeling sick and numb.

"I would like you to tell us what has happened to you," said the headmaster. "How did you come to be here?"

Lucius chuckled and began to struggle against his bonds once more, letting out a roar of fury, panting heavily. His robes fell back to reveal the faint, twisted outline of a Dark Mark on his skeletal forearm. Draco winced. He had almost been subjected to that tattoo of ownership too, before Harry had stopped the Dark Lord. He took a hesitant step forward, his heart racing painfully.

"Father?" he said softly. Lucius' crazy smile spread across his face again, looking bizarre against his starved features and eyes full of malice.

"Son," he mocked, his voice twisted with anger. "How nice to see my faithful boy… after all this time."

"Lucius," repeated Dumbledore firmly. "I need you to answer some questions."

"Let me _go_," Malfoy spat.

"I'm afraid that is impossible. We have reason to believe you have cast a curse on Harry Potter. His life has been seriously endangered."

Lucius laughed harshly. "He's not dead yet, then?" he growled. He threw himself against the bonds of the spell, and bright lights sparked out from the point Dumbledore had cast the barrier. Coloured light sent shadows chasing across the dark stone and water. Draco felt terror stab into his heart at those few words. Weasley took a few fearful steps backwards.

"No, he is not dead," Dumbledore spoke calmly. "And with your help we can restore him to health with no lasting damage."

Malfoy fell back against the wall once more, his breathing coming in harsh, ragged bursts. He chuckled darkly, his emaciated chest rising and falling fast. "Wrong, Dumbledore," he whispered, his voice cruel and victorious. Draco felt blind fear claw at his insides.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

"You set the curse onto Harry, did you not?" asked the headmaster.

"That's right."

"Why?"

Lucius grinned. "He killed my master. The Dark Lord… was so close, before long he would have total control over the Muggle _scum_ -" he spat out the words disgustedly "- that dared to defy him. And then Potter…"

"Harry destroyed him," Dumbledore supplied.

"Destroyed him, but not his ideas! He passed on his objectives, his initiative… to the few lucky enough to be granted access," Malfoy snarled. He coughed weakly, his chest heaving. "The Dark Lord was vanquished, but not his followers, his servants - his friends!"

"Lord Voldemort had no friends," said Remus coldly. "He only surrounded himself by people foolish enough to believe they mattered."

Dumbledore held up a finger to silence him.

"The curse was an invention of the Dark Lords," Malfoy hissed. "To torture someone at their most vulnerable, in a place they cannot take weapons, a wand, an accomplice… where they have nothing but their fear. Where the walls of reality could be twisted into whatever shape a terrified mind feared most. He wished to use it on Potter, but he died before he had the chance."

"So you took up the mantle."

Lucius chuckled, tangled grey hair falling across his skeletal face. The stark shadows and orange light cast across his face, exaggerating the sunken cheeks and sharp bones. He looked like a living corpse.

"Why go to all these lengths?" asked Remus, his voice hard. "If you had Harry alone in that house why cast the curse instead of just killing him?"

"We wished to keep him alive."

"We?" Dumbledore frowned. Draco thought of Harry, lying helpless in the hospital wing, frightened and lost and abused. He felt sick to the core. Cold air pressed against his skin and more than anything he wanted to run back to the infirmary, to Harry.

"A band of the Dark Lords most trusted followers," Lucius hissed. He struck an arm out against the barrier, and a roar of madness escaped him. "We were chased into hiding! We found each other through the Dark Mark… swore ourselves to revenge. Justice."

He glared at Professor Dumbledore, his face twisted into a snarl that showed decaying teeth, his eyes lit up with the notion of vengeance.

"We knew Potter would not be able to resist the call of helpless survivors," he spat derisively. "We knew of the rumours circulating that particular street, so I stationed myself there to wait."

"And there were no survivors?" asked Dumbledore softly.

"There was. I disposed of them. Transfigured the bodies, hid them. We needed the street to be empty so no-one would come to Potters aid."

Ron stared at this shrunken figure before him, speaking of murder with such ease. It frightened him. He glanced over at Draco, who was gazing at his father as though transfixed, his face white and drained. Ron had never seen him with such open emotions. The blonde stared at Lucius, his face a picture of appalled fear, of confusion and denial.

"Why did you want him alive? As a hostage?" Dumbledore asked. His light blue eyes were radiating a cold power.

"The curse would knock him out," whispered Lucius hoarsely. "We were to take him back to headquarters. Imagine -" he chuckled, his eyes rolling insanely. "Harry Potter our prisoner, slave to our whims… our torture."

"You wanted to make him suffer."

"He destroyed our master!" spat Lucius, his harsh voice echoing through the cold chamber. "He deserves to suffer!" He grinned, and Draco could almost see the images running through his fathers mind. They would have subjected Harry to unbearable pain, to endless torture. Nausea welled up from his stomach into his throat.

"But not only that," the Death Eater continued. "The Dark Lord made steps further than any wizard has ever done to discovering immortality. He secured ways of cheating death… of lengthening life. Perhaps he has not been truly vanquished." Lucius' dark eyes glittered in their sunken sockets. "If there is a way to bring him back, the key lies within Potter."

Silence resounded in the darkness. Draco pushed the sickness down into his stomach, feeling himself shake with cold and fear. The orange spheres of light bobbed slowly up and down near the ceiling - they seemed to shrink above him, to fill the room with shadows.

"What about me?" he said softly. Lucius' eyes snapped round to him. "Why was I made a part of this?"

"You…" his father snarled. His face lit up with a burning, twisted fury at something previously forgotten. Draco had never seen him so furious, so unhinged. He took a step backwards, scared.

"You were to be brought into the fold," Lucius spat. "My son, a Death Eater at last - you were to help us _destroy_ Potter from the inside. We created his dependence on you as a side effect of the curse. It was not originally planned - we thought we could take him from the wreckage of the house… but there was a trace spell connected to him, alerting his followers to danger. I saw the trace activated after I cast the spell - I had no choice but to flee without taking him." He turned to Dumbledore, eyes lit with hateful malevolence. "The Death Eaters scattered. I returned to the Manor, created a bond between Potter and my son. If I could not torture the boy then my son defeating him would be the next best thing…"

His gaze flicked back to Draco, and a sickened fury rose visibly inside him as he strained against the hold placed on him. "Little did I know," he hissed, his voice a venomous whisper, "That Draco - my _worthless _son - would not be so inclined to help his father. Draco was to be inducted into the Death Eaters if he proved useful on this task, if he demonstrated his _worth_. The bond was a test - a test which you so _spectacularly_ failed," he snarled.

"Father - I didn't know!" Draco pleaded. "You didn't contact me, I couldn't have -"

"Did you think a curse placed on Potter - a curse binding you to him - would require you to _help him_?" roared Malfoy. He launched himself against the spell barrier in Draco's direction, sending crackles of light seeping into the dark. Draco stumbled backwards in fear.

"Father, please - I didn't know!"

"You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name!" screamed Lucius, hurling himself furiously into the spell wall. "You are no longer my son!"

Dumbledore drew his wand in one swift movement and a wordless blast of magic slammed into Lucius Malfoy. He crumpled backwards against the cold wall, and Draco winced at the sharp crack of bones against hard stone. Malfoy slumped slowly down to the floor, where he lay gasping and panting, his eyes lit with overwhelming fury. His robes hung lifeless and torn against his frail form, his harsh breaths coming out in visible puffs in the cold dungeon.

"That will be enough," said Dumbledore coldly, his voice sharp and powerful. "Remus - alert the Ministry of Magic. Tell them we have a fugitive Death Eater trapped in the castle dungeons."

Remus nodded, his face pale. With Dumbledore's permission, he stepped hurriedly from the dark chamber.

"I understand the light of the curse faded when you ambushed him?" the headmaster asked Ron sharply. Ron nodded. "Then it would seem the spell has been lifted without our help. We may need to run some tests but it seems Harry is free from immediate danger -"

A low chuckling filled the room once more. The three remaining wizards turned to Lucius Malfoy, who made no effort to pull himself up from the floor, but merely lay laughing weakly as he panted for breath, glaring up at Dumbledore, his face twisted into a grimacing smile. Draco felt dread tugging at him, dragging him downwards into fear.

"Wrong again, Dumbledore," Lucius hissed. The floor of the chamber was more heavily shadowed and Lucius' face was hidden but for the glow of deathly pale skin and the glitter of dark eyes.

"What do you mean?" the headmaster asked severely.

Lucius chuckled. "I was keeping the curse steady in my office - keeping it stable. My hold over it is lost so the curse is broken… but not gone."

Draco stared at him, his eyes wide with fear. "What are you saying?" he whispered.

"The spell strengthens as time progresses Dumbledore - why do you think the nightmares have been growing worse? The curse still has a hold over Potter - and it will not be beaten without one last fight!" Lucius laughed maniacally, delightedly. "I was keeping it stable! The stronger the curse grows, the weaker Potter becomes - it will take a hold of him now, drag him down for good! By capturing me you have sentenced him to death!"

Lucius trailed away into insane laughter, his skeletal frame shaking as he lay on the cold floor. Draco stared at him as if frozen for a moment, his mind jammed, his thoughts screaming. Then with a jerk he turned to Dumbledore, who nodded, and Draco turned on his heel and ran for the hospital wing as fast as he could.

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**A/N: **Cliffhanger queen strikes again! I really hope you like this chapter, I'm freaking out. So much love and thankies to **Medicinal Biscuit, Fairka, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Nagini Potter, SwarmOfFanGirls, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, eleventy7, xkohleyesx, Secluded Angel 33, SkyeEyesSparkle7135, bannana2, harry-potters-sister, Lady Sakura, xXCaRaXx **and** DawnPapaya.** I cant begin to tell you how happy it makes me when I get a review from you guys :)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly I do not own Harry Potter. If I did Harry and Draco would've got it on years ago, and Remus Lupin would never have died. Although Tonks still would have.

**A/N: **FINALLY! I am uber-sorry this took so long. My laptop has been broken for three weeks - I've HATED not being able to update. Hope you haven't all given up on me D:

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Chapter 32

Draco tore through the moonlit corridors of Hogwarts, through pools of silver light and shadowy blackness, a burning stitch in his lungs and side. His mind was jammed with only one thought: _get to Harry_. If he could just get there in time then somehow everything would be alright. The thud of his footfalls echoed through the silent school as he sprinted up staircases and hurtled round corners. His heartbeat was a roaring drum in his ears, his mouth dry and his skin crawling with fear. _Get to Harry. Get to Harry. Get to Harry._

He raced up the final staircase that led to the hospital wing, gasping for breath. A bolt of pure dread slammed through him as he ran towards the wide hospital doors and heard the distant screams. It was a voice he recognised. He had heard it more than once, when he had been jolted awake in the night by Harry crying out. Pain sparked through his chest as he tore breath into his lungs, finally bursting through the infirmary doors.

"Thank goodness!" came the shrill voice of Madam Pomfrey, hurrying towards him through the dark and deserted hospital wing. "I was just coming to fetch - Harry, he's - he needs your help - we couldn't touch him -!"

Draco left her stuttering and raced through the dim stone corridor, wrenching open the door, Harry's cries pulling him inwards. He stumbled into their shared hospital room.

"Malfoy!" Hermione squeaked, her face white, terrified eyes staring at him. "Please - please help him!"

Draco's eyes fell on the patient in the bed before him. Harry was no longer screaming - _can he feel me here?_ Draco's exhausted mind wondered. He was lying on the bed, the sheets tangled around him, clutched weakly in white-knuckled hands. His eyes were closed, eyelids flickering, his skin pale.

"What happened?" he barked at Hermione.

"I don't know!" she wailed. "He didn't even fall asleep - it's like he got sucked under, it just pulled him in!"

"When?"

"A few minutes ago! You have to help him!"

"Leave," he snapped at her, not even bothering to watch as she hurried from the room. He was already striding over to the bed and kneeling on the soft quilt next to Harry. The dark haired boy turned towards him, his eyes still closed, his face pale and shining. Blood trickled slowly down from his hairline. He seemed, so far… mostly unharmed. A shaking hand reached out towards Draco, the other cradled in a sling next to his chest. The wind seemed to slow and all noise seemed to fade to silence as Draco stared down at the broken boy beside him and felt his heart rate slowly decrease.

"Harry," he said softly, urgently.

Harry mumbled incoherently, his entire body shaking, his face screwed up in pain and fear.

"No…" he muttered.

Draco reached out a hand and gently ran his fingers through dark, matted hair. He pressed his hand to Harry's forehead and when he pulled back there was a bloody smudge on his palm in the shape of a bolt of lightning. Harry moaned and shuddered, and Draco could almost see the flash of white and shadows that struck with every flicker of his eyelids.

--

Down in the dungeons, Lucius Malfoy smiled his manic smile and Professor Dumbledore watched as grey eyes rolled back in waxy, sunken sockets.

--

_White light._

_Unbroken, never ending. Making his eyes burn and water. There was nothing but the expanse of white light and the cloaked figure before him that stared with invisible eyes, contemplating him, drawing out the fear. A hand pulled soundlessly from inside a robe of shadows, thin fingers encased in sharp, cold steel tips. He could not move. There were no shackles, no ropes, there was no holding spell… but he could not move. _

_Darkness._

_Impenetrable, suffocating. Making wild panic claw at his insides. He felt the icy breath of death shiver along his neck and knew it was there, waiting to strike. He screamed. He needed help - he needed someone, something. Something he could not remember._

"_Harry Potter…" came a hiss through the darkness. Terror stabbed into him._

_He heard the split-second whistle of sudden movement and then screaming pain tore into his chest, ripping open old wounds. The cold, sharp fingers sliced into him. He struggled and cried out but he could not move, he could not get away. Pain slashed across his arms, his face, his neck._

_White._

_Blinding him, his vision a blur of painful bright light and dark, wet blood. He tried to scream for help but no sound came out. He tried to slip into unconsciousness but he was already there. Agony whipped through him, pure and real but blurred, like feeling it through a layer of cotton wool._

_Low, rattling laughter. The hiss of evil words in the dead air._

_And… something else. A snatch, a glimpse. Something in the air, inside of him._

_Someone speaking his name. _

_The frightening glitter of a long, sharp knife being pulled from nowhere. Raised up over his head, building up momentum to come slicing down. And somewhere in the midst of his fear and desolation, Harry caught a sight of Draco Malfoy watching over him._

"_Harry!"_

"_Draco!" he screamed. "Help me!"_

_And the hooded figure launched itself at him._

_--_

Draco was panicking. There was so much blood, streaming out from Harry's arms, his face, his chest. He was sitting with Harry pulled up into his arms, trying desperately to rouse him, watching helplessly as the unconscious boy struggled against something that seemed to be pinning him down.

"Harry," he urged. "Come on, wake up! You can do this."

Harry cried out in fear, straining against an invisible hold, shaking his head and trying to cradle his broken arm. Helpless, desolate anger and fear gathered inside Draco like a storm. He pulled Harry closer into his chest, where he liked to be, and kissed his bloodstained forehead.

"What should I do?" he whispered hoarsely. He closed his eyes and tried to will Harry back to consciousness. The torches set into walls around them flickered and the light dimmed. The wind howled outside.

"Draco…" came a whisper, drawn out with pain, cutting into Draco like a scream. "Help me."

"I'm trying," he said softly. "Just wake up, Harry."

The body in Draco's arms suddenly stiffened. Draco sat bolt upright, staring down at Harry fearfully. He did not know what to do - should he shake Harry to try and pull him out, or would that make the nightmares worse? Would gentle words be enough to help him? The nightmares inside his head were really happening, really affecting him. He had told Draco before he did not know he was dreaming when the nightmares struck. Because he was not entirely dreaming. It was more than that. It was real.

Draco's heartbeat slowed to a crawl and the hair on the back of his neck tingled fearfully, the air thick with trepidation. Harry let out a soft whimper and Draco _heard _the whistle of the blade carving through the air and the stabbing tear of skin as an invisible blade tore into Harry's chest.

"_No!_" he screamed.

Harry drew a rattling, shuddering breath and the lights burning around them faded to a dull flicker. Blood welled up from Harry's chest, pooling over his skin and soaking through his shirt.

"No - no," Draco pleaded. "Harry - wake up! _Wake up!_" he grabbed the unconscious boys shoulders and shook him hard, shouting at him angrily, desperately. He should have woken up by now. He had always woken up by now. Harry moaned in pain and struggled in the blonde boy's hold, broken arm clutched weakly against his wounded upper body. The wind seemed to be picking up _inside_ the room, the lights dim and guttering. With a jerking gasp Harry opened his eyes.

"_Draco!_" he gasped. His voice was distant, as though he was speaking from inside the nightmare. "_I can't see you_."

"I'm right here," Draco replied, pulling Harry close, his eyes squeezing shut. He felt wind running through his hair and a chill creeping through the darkening room, tugging at him with cold fingers. He felt like his mind was slowly ebbing in and out, catching on the strings of reality and then fading into somewhere… else. Like the world inside Harry's head was manifesting around him. Harry was on the edge of consciousness, and the nightmare was being pulled into reality with him. Harry groaned, his fingers clenching weakly around the fabric of Draco's shirt. Blood ran down his chest between them like a barrier. Draco stared, nauseous, at the slash torn in Harry's t-shirt and the deep vertical wound below. He did not know what to do. The only thing he could do to help was wake Harry up - and Harry wasn't waking.

"Can you hear me?" he asked softly.

Harry nodded, his face screwed up in pain, his eyes closed. "_Help me_," he gasped.

"_How? _I don't know what to do!"

Harry buried his head in Draco's chest and screamed. "_Please!_"

Draco closed his eyes and could _see _it happening. The black haired boy tied down by invisible bonds, small and blood-stained and helpless. Trapped in the cage of his own mind. The looming figure swathed in black, every nightmare summed up into one torturous, unflinching presence. The cause of Harry's suffering for all the endless days and nights that had passed, not between them, but through them. Changing them, bringing them together. The silhouette of robes and shadows cut sharp fingernails into Harry's skin with sickening ease. Long, skeletal white fingers and an emaciated, translucent arm. Painfully familiar to the boy who watched them both.

"Father," he whispered. "Please."

The wind whipped at his clothes, the lights guttered and died. Harry's body grew limp in his arms. The darkness and fear danced across Draco's skin, quick and cold air sending goosebumps shivering over him. A soft, almost inaudible sound came from behind him, from inside him - he did not know. A low chuckle of someone who had truly lost their mind. It grew and grew, clear despite the wind, insane laughter ringing in his ears until Draco's eyes opened with a snap and he jerked round with an icy jolt of terror to see the blurred, hooded black figure of his father standing before him.

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**A/N: **I'm SORRY it's a cliff-hanger again, it seems like I don't have the ability to end a chapter in a nice way! Thankyou and eternal glorious, shining gratitude to **dreamweaver26, Lace Brandon Whitlock, Mandapops **(loffage!) **Nillock Zifnab, DawnPapaya, forevrlostinme, eleventy7, Secluded Angel 33, evildictionaryninja, Faerylark, orange pony, bannana2, SwarmOfFanGirls, harry-potters-sister, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, xkohleyesx, Avnaihi, keelycal, Lady Sakura, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, xXCaRaXx, SkyeEyesSparkle7135 **and** LunaParvulus. **Next chapter tomorrow.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing!

**A/N:** Eeeee! We're getting near the end now you guys :( I think there's probably about five chapters left, not including this one. Enjoy!

**--**

Chapter 33

Paralysing fear like he had never known froze into Draco as he kneeled on his and Harry's hospital bed, Harry's body lifeless in his arms. Lucius lifted one skeletal arm and pulled back the thin black hood of his cloak, revealing once more that painfully thin face, skin gaunt and sunken. Dark eyes glittered in their shadowed, stretched sockets, dull in colour but lit from behind by the fires of insanity.

"_My son_," he scorned, his voice a dream-distant whisper and yet starkly clear. Like it was coming from Draco's own mind rather than from his father. Draco could not reply; his mind and voice were jammed.

"_What a disappointment you have become_," Lucius hissed. He extended a bony finger capped with a shining steel tip into the darkness and beckoned Draco towards him, who moved powerlessly, drawn beyond his own control. Harry slipped from his hold as he rose and took faltering steps towards his father, pushed on by the rising wind. Lucius was blurred around the edges like an apparition, but Draco was sure he would be solid to the touch. A living figure pulled from inside a nightmare. The waxy skin seemed to ripple and crawl over the bones of his face, distorting the features.

"Father," Draco whispered, his voice hoarse, his throat blocked by fear. "Please stop this."

Lucius' mouth curled into a disgusted, sneering smile. The robes hung lifelessly about him, unmoved by the wind. "_What's this?_" he hissed jeeringly. "_Have you become affectionate towards your charge? How sweet_." He moved forwards, more gliding than walking.

"You don't need to do this! Just - just stop - give yourself up to the Ministry, maybe they'll -"

"_Lock me in Azkaban for the rest of my life? Is that what my son requests? All hope of the Dark Lords resurrection lost forever?"_

"The Ministry are already on their way - and I know this isn't really you! You're locked up in the dungeons, you can't escape!"

"_Incorrect_," Lucius dark eyes gleamed, fixed on Draco, boring into him. "_Potter is still alive - just. He is trapped in the twilight land of his nightmares, trying to get back to you. Every second that passes he grows weaker_." Draco turned, his gaze falling on the frail boy on the bed, eyes closed, blood pooling around him, staining the white bedcovers a stark red. His eyelids flickered and he jerked intermittently, still dreaming, still trapped. Lucius chuckled and it rang low and echoing in the dark air around Draco. "_I can be brought out of those dungeons_," Lucius hissed. "_Potters mind is strong enough to be used to pull me through the dream world and out into reality, here. But it cannot be done by me."_

Draco's eyes widened and fresh fear rose up inside of him. "Me?" he whispered, and unlike Lucius his voice was picked up and carried by the wind, made distant and faint in the darkness.

"_You are being handed an opportunity to redeem yourself_," his father hissed. A steel-tipped hand sank into black robes and pulled out a long, glinting silver knife, the blade stained with drying blood. Cold fear shot through Draco's veins, freezing his insides. _No_.

"Y - you want me to -? _No_," he stammered. "I can't. I _can't_."

"_You will not fail me again!_" Lucius screamed. The vague edges of his dark cloak sharpened and faded, blurring like static. "_You will do your duty to your father and to the Dark Lord!_"

Draco shook his head, taking a faltering step backwards, towards the bed. Blocking the path between Lucius and Harry. The wind seemed to hiss and whisper in his ears, pushing him forwards, towards the nightmare figure and the knife. "I can't! You - you said you wanted him alive!"

Lucius laughed menacingly again. His voice dropped to the cold whisper once more, somehow infinitely more threatening. Tears of horror and nausea burned at the back of Draco's eyes.

"_Such a clever boy_," his father said, his voice a low, sinister snarl. "_The situation has changed somewhat. Now it is Potters death or Azkaban prison. If he is killed I can escape; if not, I am trapped. You can set me free, Draco,_" he hissed. He moved forwards imperceptibly, his burning eyes dark and clear in a distorted face. "_You can bring me from the dungeons out into this room, and we may make our escape. Perhaps Potters death - or Potters blood alone - is the key to restoring the Dark Lords glory. If you assist me you will be pardoned for your faults. I can be released!_"He grinned maniacally and extended the blade out towards his son._ "All it will take is one… little… deed."_

Rooted to the spot by fear, Draco could do nothing but stare at the figure before him. It was the same question that had plagued him throughout; since the first day he had fallen into this tangled mystery with Potter. When there had been nothing between them but hatred and disgust. Even then the answer had not been clear. With every turn it had become more unreachable. Could he turn his back on his father, for Harry? Or give up everything he might share with Harry - for his father?

"_Take the knife_," Lucius whispered, and Draco reached out, his fingers connecting with the solid, carved handle of the blade. He took it, watching as though from far inside himself the way the blade shone in the darkness, reflecting light from nothing. He held it in his hand, heavy and bloodstained and real. "_Fulfil your duty_."

Their eyes locked, and Draco felt a force building up inside him, something separate from himself. A command, a destiny. Dreamlike, he stepped slowly towards the unconscious figure on the bed, taking in every inch of Harry; the creased eyebrows, the expression filled with pain. The deep shadowy circles under his eyes, and all the cuts and bruises and wounds he had sustained under Draco's care. Broken arm, lacerations on his face, chest and arms. Twisting scars from older wounds and drying blood from the freshest cut, a deep gash in his chest. Draco stared down at the boy he had come to know and the sheer force of conflicting emotions made him feel weak. He could feel his fathers presence directly behind him in the darkness. He did not turn around.

"_Finish it_," came the cold, whispering voice, harsh with venom. It sounded not only like his father. Draco could remember meeting the Dark Lord himself and hearing that frightening cold whisper that spoke of destiny and death and the cleansing of this world for a new, purer beginning. He had heard it in his dreams an untold number of times.

"I can't," he choked. "Please - I can't…"

"_It is your duty! __**Destroy him**__!_"

He raised the long knife up to chest-level, standing over the shadowed hospital bed. Harry frowned and a soft moan escaped him as he struggled weakly, one good hand trying to cradle the broken arm and cover the chest wound at the same time. Tears fell from beneath his closed eyelids. He mumbled unintelligibly under his breath. Draco felt the command swell inside of him and he clenched the knife so tight it hurt, raising it a little higher and taking a deep, shaky breath.

"_Do it!_"

Harry's body tensed as though expecting the blow, and his eyes abruptly flew open.

"Draco!" he gasped. Frightened grey eyes met green filled with pain and despair, and they stared at each other for a second that seemed to stretch out into eternity, exchanging everything that they had never been able to say. Harry reached out a trembling hand and grazed the bottom of Draco's shirt with his fingertips. "Draco," he whispered, gazing up at him with tear-filled eyes.

And the answer was there. Draco gasped as understanding tore through him, raging against the urge to bring the knife clutched in his still-tensed hands rushing down onto the boy who lay before him. The shadowy robed figure behind screamed words of fury into the wind. With a desperate, choking cry Draco whirled round and brought the blade slicing through the air until it connected with hanging black robes and the skin underneath and stabbed into the blurred figure of Lucius Malfoy.

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**A/N: **I know it's shorter than normal - there's another chapter coming up soon. Originally they were gonna be just one chapter but you know me, I like to make you wait :) I really hope you like it. I totally know what fanfic writers mean now when they talk about the pressure to write well that builds with every chapter! But there's nearly three hundred reviews now and I honestly just CAN'T thank you guys enough, it's wonderfully amazingly brilliant and I appreciate you and your reviews so. freaking. much. **forevrlostinme, SkyeEyesSparkle7135, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Nagini Potter, 101, Windseeker2305, Secluded Angel 33, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, SwarmOfFanGirls, Sakura **(I crave your reviews so bad)**, amber v **(your review made me laugh SO MUCH)**, luckycharm9, xkohleyesx, The Wykkyd, bookgirl239 - **thank you!


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary:** A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, no money is being made, et cetera.

**A/N:** I'm sorry. Oh my god, I really am. Writers block is the freaking devil.

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Chapter 34

The screaming was deafening, terrifying. It pierced into Draco's core and he felt like everything that bound him up into himself; wit, intelligence, derision, cunning… it was all tumbling out and leaving him a hollow, dead shell crafted from absolute fear. His father shrieked and writhed, the knife gone from Draco's hand and buried to the hilt into the shadowy chest of the nightmare figure before him. The screams froze his blood and made his stomach lurch, distant like dreams yet piercing straight through and ringing deafeningly in his ears. Lucius' form seemed to crackle and flash like static, distorting and disappearing and coming back blacker and denser, more frightening than ever.

_Why does nobody hear it_, Draco thought desperately. Surely someone should be coming to rescue them. He backed up onto the bed, falling down beside Harry, who was trying to sit up and gazing at Draco's father with a kind of empty, detached horror. Lucius' arms thrashed, his body contorting, his eyes dark and filled with furious agony. He seemed to be stuck to the spot, his feet working and moving as he tried to rush at the two boys on the bed but only stayed where he was, flickering and jerking like an image on a blurry television screen, his dark mouth twisted into a scream of rage.

"Go away!" Draco cried, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the twisted bed sheets, backing up, his eyes huge and dark and terrified. "You can't come through if I didn't hurt him and I won't let you get him so please _go away_!"

Lucius roared, black robes crawling and blurring around him, fizzing out of sight and flaring into sharp focus. Beside Draco on the bed, Harry moaned in exhausted fear. He was frighteningly pale, his dark eyes glazed. The jerking, flickering figure behind him screamed and Draco let out a sob of desperate fear. "Get up, Harry!"

He grabbed Harry by the shoulders, and the dark haired boy leaned weakly against him, heavy and bloodstained. Draco pulled him up, onto the floor, putting the bed between them and Lucius. Harry's feet could not support him, Draco held him up, sagging with his dead weight. "Come on, Harry!" he screamed over the fierce, biting wind. "You have to make him leave!"

"What?" Harry whispered, and Draco could not hear it but he knew what Harry said. Lucius shrieked and twisted in endless agony before them, the knife handle glinting, no blood spilling forth from the shadowy figure. Draco gathered all his energy and, hating himself, thrust Harry up onto his own feet, towards the personification of all his recent terror.

Harry swayed, staggered, caught himself. His pale face shone in the dark room filled with supernatural wind. His shirt was dark with blood. Draco stood beside him.

"There's nothing I can do, you have to get rid of him!"

Harry shook his head, trembling. "I can't," he whispered. "I can't do it."

"_You have to_!"

"I don't know what to _do_!" Harry cried, stumbling backwards, his eyes burning with the dry, biting wind. Stabbing pain tore through his chest and ravaged into his body, battling with the endless, draining exhaustion. He fell back into Draco's arms. Lucius Malfoy howled. "I can't do this," he choked, burying his face in Draco's neck.

"If you don't, he'll find another way to break through! He'll never stop hunting you!"

"_What do I do_?"

Draco took a deep, shaking breath. The wind whipped at him, clawing at his skin in the darkness. Why did nobody hear them, why did nobody come to help them?

He raised a hand, feeling his exhausted muscles protesting, and tilted Harry's chin upwards. Huge, dark eyes met his and he leaned downwards to softly press a kiss to Harry's lips. Harry melted against him.

"You have to realise," he said softly. "This isn't real. It's a nightmare."

"It _is _real!"

"No," Draco said. He gripped Harry tightly, and knew they were running out of time. "It's just your dream. He's from your dream. You brought him out here, you can send him back again."

"How?"

"You just have to realise that."

"But it isn't a dream!" Harry cried. "It's real, he's _real_!"

"It isn't!" Draco kissed him again, and Harry buckled in his arms. Draco pressed their foreheads together. "He's just a nightmare."

Taking a careful step back, he left Harry to support himself again. The dark haired boy turned to face the never-ending, twisting dark figure that had plagued him for so long, now made flesh, brought into reality by Harry's own mind.

"But still… just a dream?" Harry whispered. He took a haltering step forwards, and his actions were mirrored by Draco's father, who moved one step closer to them. Fear swarmed up inside Harry. He stumbled backwards, but still Lucius kept coming, freed by Harry standing alone and left with nothing but fear and isolation. Just like in his dreams. The dreadful shrieking still tore through the icy wind, whipping Harry's hair and making his chest burn until he wanted to scream. He bit his lip. Lucius was still shrieking, but his waxy lips were curved into a malevolent grin and the sound seemed to coming from around him, from within him instead of from his lips. It seemed to be echoing deep inside Harry's mind, the furthest reaches he could not access, the place of dreams and nightmares and fear itself.

"You're not real," he whispered.

Draco's heart stood still. He watched the frail, broken boy stand before the image that looked like his own father but was so much more than that now. His father was the vessel, carrying everything Harry feared out into reality. It was Lucius still, but it was also the twisted serpentine face of Lord Voldemort and the hooded mask of a Dementor, with skeletal death lurking just behind that fold of blackened cloth. It was everything that Harry was afraid of, all of Harry's nightmares together as one.

"You're not real," Harry whispered again, as the image took jerking, guttering steps towards him. Draco reached out and took hold of a sweaty, cold hand, anchoring Harry. He squeezed tight. Lucius Malfoy chuckled darkly.

"You can do this," Draco murmured. Harry's eyes flicked over towards him, his face ashen and bloodless. The blonde boy nodded. Lucius advanced on them slowly. Harry took a deep, steadying breath and squeezed Draco's hand in return.

"You're not real," he repeated. "You're just a dream." He summed up every last, desperate ounce of energy. "You're not real!"

"_You don't believe that_," came the harsh, twisting voice of Lucius Malfoy, the cold, evil hiss of Lord Voldemort carried by the icy death rattle of every Dementor. Draco could hear more distant echoes; the insane shriek of his aunt Bellatrix, the hoarse, snarling whisper of Fenrir Greyback. "_You made me real_," it hissed.

"No," Harry whispered. "Draco… help me."

Draco gripped his hand tight. "It's your nightmare," he whispered.

"But you always bring me out of them! You're supposed to help me!"

"How?"

"Do whatever you do to wake me up!"

Ridiculous, comical thoughts chased through Draco's head - maybe if he shook Harry hard enough all of this would go away. He felt like he was gradually loosing his grip on the strings of reality, slipping backwards into some unknown black darkness filled by the howling wind and the shrieks of every nightmare monster he ever dreamed up.

The static image of his father chuckled menacingly, the once blurred edges becoming sharp, more defined.

"_You're mine, Potter_," he hissed.

"No!" Harry cried. "You're not real!" He staggered backwards, shaking his head, lost. Draco tugged him sharply in, his eyes burning into Harry's. They stared at each other for a moment and Draco pulled him forwards, pressing his lips against Harry's in a hard, forceful kiss.

"Come on, Harry," he growled. "Wake up."

Harry stared into those huge grey eyes, into a reflection of everything Draco and he had suffered during those eternal three weeks, into everything they had become. Blonde strands of hair whipped across Draco's face in the wind and Harry lifted a shaking hand to push them back, fingers brushing against smooth, pale skin. The distant footsteps echoed behind him. He took a deep, painful breath. He nodded.

Turning to face the dark, twisted eyes of his nightmare, his exhausted mind took in faint crackling yellow light that shot in thin bolts through the dark air around them. Was it gaining strength - pulling itself through? Or starting to fade away? He pulled together every final inch of strength he possessed, his mind screaming, his vision blurred, his muscles jerking, his chest a dark red map of pain.

"This is just a nightmare," he said softly. "You. You're just a nightmare." He reached out blindly backwards and his hand connected with Draco's, and held. Uncertainty flickered across the static, shadowy face of Draco's father. Harry's heart jumped the tiniest fraction. "Draco's right. Your _son_ is right. I pulled you out from my dreams - and I can put you back in. You're not real."

Lucius took a faltering step backwards, his eyes wild, dark frame flickering in and out with increasing rapidity. A faint thumping, rattling sound came from behind Harry, but he did not turn around. "_You're not real_!" he shouted.

A ear-splitting crack shot through the air with a blinding flash of yellow light. Lucius screamed and flew towards Harry, a dark figure crawling with shadows. It connected with him and the world was suddenly spinning, flashing, blinding. Yellow glow brightened into glaring white that flared in and out of endless drowning darkness. Harry screamed. Draco's hand was lost, the floor had disappeared from under him. He was back in that never-ending dreamscape with no walls, no barriers, no help. Lucius was on him, over him, clawing at him with those sharp, cold fingertips. Harry's hand struck out wildly and hit something hard and slippery cold. The knife. He grabbed hold of it, wrapping his hand around the handle. He pulled with all his might. Claws scratched at his face, tore into his shirt. Rabid, feral screaming filled his ears. He lost his grip on the blade, slipped, seized it tight. He launched out again and this time his fingers did not slip through the shadowy black robes, they connected. He felt the blade tearing into solid flesh, and glittering eyes caught his own, filled with screaming pain. Yellow light began to blink across his vision, distorting his sight. _Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream_.

"_You're not real_!" he screamed. He grasped outwards, connecting with something outside this realm of nightmares, something warm and soft and true. Draco. He pulled the knife out again, feeling cold blood pouring out over his hands and running in rivers down his arms from the distorted figure that covered him, drowned him, clawed its twisted fingertips into him. If Draco was there, holding his hand, then Harry was not really _here_. He was in their shared hospital room, and all of this was happening inside the endless prison of his own mind. If Lucius could take hold of him, assume control over his mind like this, then he ought to be able to take that control _back_.

He pushed against Lucius as hard as could, and rolled sideways. Pain flared across his body and he bit back a scream.

"_No_," he groaned. "It's not real. It _doesn't hurt_."

He tried to push himself up to his feet, his muscles burning. He slipped, fell, letting out a weak cry of desperation. He tried again, and stumbled to his feet on the floorless landscape, the darkness flickering in and out. He gritted his teeth and stared down into the frightening face of Lucius Malfoy.

Waxy skin rolled across the skeletal face, blurring and sharpening, almost transparent. Limp hair hung in tangled ropes and eyes dark with hate stared back at him. Lucius' chest heaved with exertion.

"_Give up, Potter_," he spat, his voice an ethereal piercing hiss. "_Against the legions of the Dark Lord you cannot hope to be victorious_."

"I killed Voldemort," Harry ground out through clenched teeth, forcing the pain down, willing it away. Lucius snarled furiously. "I can kill you too."

"_Another shall follow in my footsteps! There will always be those who hold true to the Dark Lord, who see his infinite_ -"

"No," Harry said.

"_You cannot destroy me_!" Lucius hissed, rising to his feet. "_I am inside your very mind, every nightmare you ever suffered - I control them all_!"

"Maybe," Harry gasped. "But you're still inside _my_ mind. This isn't really happening. Draco is out there, I can feel him. Your son," he hissed, and Lucius' eyes glittered with burning anger. "He's helping me. And if this is in my mind, I can control it. I can stop it."

He glanced down at the blood soaked knife he held in his trembling fingers. He stared at his shaking hand and gathered together every inch of willpower he possessed. _Stop shaking_, he thought. His hand steadied. His vision blurred over and he staggered. _No_. Yellow flecks of light danced in front of his eyes, strange colour in this two-tone world.

The nightmare figure stepped towards him, not moving with human steps but rather flickering in and out, drawing closer with every return to corporeality. An inhuman smile curved across Lucius' lips and Harry could see everything he had ever been afraid of reflected in those dark, pitiless eyes.

"_You're weak_," it jeered venomously. "_You can't stop me. You will be defeated, and the Dark Lord shall rise_."

"Voldemort is dead," Harry spat. "No spell can bring someone back from the dead."

"_The magical laws of fools are of no concern to the Dark Lord! He invented spells of torture, new ways to bring death - and prolong life, restore it! He will be reborn_!"

"I won't let that happen."

Darkness fell around them like a switch had been flicked, and maniacal laughter echoed throughout the endless space. Fear scratched at Harry's insides, and he drove it down, feeling the distant warmth of Draco around him, feeling the knowledge strengthen him. He could stop this. Pain tried to claw its way back through him and he screamed internally, shaking with the force of it, willing it away. He could control it. White light flared.

Lucius stood before him. Inches away from Harry's face, the bones of his skull showing through gaunt skin, robes hanging lifelessly.

"_You've not been able to stop me so far_…"

He lifted a hand and smiled menacingly as cold steel fingertips glittered. Harry shook his head.

"I didn't know before what I do now," he whispered. "This is my nightmare, my dream. If you realise you're having a dream, you gain control over it. You're inside _my_ head."

Quicker than lightning a hand slashed downwards and tore parallel gashes into Harry's face, knocking him backwards with the force of it, making him cry out. Pain blazed across through him, warm blood ran across his torn skin and he battled away the panic that rose with it.

"No!" he cried. Lucius attacked him again, and the light and shadow began to interchange faster, making him blind in the dark, making his eyes burn in the whiteness. Fear ravaged through his exhausted body and he felt himself slipping, felt claws rake into the flesh of his arms, his face, his stomach. His grip on the long blade slackened and he gripped it tight in fear, lurching forward blindly, yellow dots dancing in his eyes. He reached out for Draco and caught a glimpse of him from somewhere outside himself, pale skin, fine features distorted with fear. He held onto this image and pulled the knife up, feeling the rush of air as Lucius charged him, feeling the shock of impact as he stabbed the blade for a third time, as hard as could into the black robed body of Lucius Malfoy.

Cold blood spilled out over him, and the screaming filled his ears, ghostly and freezing, rabid, enraged. The white light blazed out and stayed. Dark eyes found his and stared, astonished. Hands cased in metal tips scrabbled for purchase at the handle of the knife. Harry held it fast. _No_.

"You're dead," he whispered.

An explosion of yellow blasted around them, splintering the air, Lucius shrieked and screamed, thrashing and wavering, hands striking out and falling through Harry like ghost hands. The wind and the shrieking reached such a pitch, the lights were so bright that Harry screwed his eyes closed, feeling the invisible ground beneath him quake and crumble. Pain whiplashed through him and the wind bit at the wounds on his exposed skin. He cried out in fear. He could no longer feel what he wanted to feel, and could not remember how to reach for it. _Stop_! he screamed inside his head. _Stop it stop it oh please stop it_ -

One last blinding flash of yellow light erupted, shining through his closed eyelids. There was a deafening whip crack and then everything was gone, imploded into itself, leaving him with only fading, twinkling yellow lights and a painful ringing in the suddenly silent air. Lucius was gone.

Harry staggered backwards, falling through the dark, numb exhaustion tugging him down. The blade slipped from his fingers and fell soundlessly through the shadows, flecked with blood. His eyes closed and he surrendered himself to the gathering clouds of black at the edges of his mind. Through innumerable distant echoes he heard somebody calling his name. Something soft and comforting touched his face. He felt lips press gently against his own. A moan escaped him.

"_Harry_."

He tried to move, but could not make his mind connect with his body.

"_Come on Harry, please wake up_."

Dull pain throbbed across his whole body, fading as he slipped away into the surrounding dark. To fall asleep and not wake up seemed like the most wonderful thing.

"_Harry please wake up you can't leave me you have to_ wake up!"

_Draco_, he thought detachedly, and the last coherent thought before he lost consciousness was of grey eyes, warm arms, soft blonde hair and tender, frightening, dizzying kisses from the Slytherin boy he used to hate so much. He held onto that for endless empty seconds, and then the darkness took him.

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**A/N:** Stratospherical intergalactic apologetic love to **SkyeEyesSparkle7135, evildictionaryninja, harry-potters-sister, Secluded Angel 33, ClayCelloFire, crazysunshine42, Lady Sakura, forevrlostinme, xx-----mistarr f u z z, foxsmum, SwarmOfFanGirls, Mandalicious, eleventy7, hermit hideaway, xkohleyesx, Mark Heffron, Karupin-Kun, DcMaddoxx, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24, Nagini Potter, Caldonya, The GirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, crazysunshine42 **and** Dezra**.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, no money is being made, et cetera.

**A/N: **Hurrah! If anyone is interested in seasonal fluff they oughta check out my latest one-shot, Getting To Know You :)

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Chapter 35

When Harry woke, slowly drifting back through fuzzy layers of thick unconsciousness, it took him a minute to remember where he was, what had happened. Madam Pomfrey bustled around checking his pulse and waving her wand at him while he lay, blinking blearily, the feeling slowly draining back into his limbs. Waking up, such a natural thing before, felt strange and disconcerting because of the amount of time he had spent not sleeping. His mind felt thick and clouded. Madam Pomfrey passed him a glass of water and he took it with shaking fingers.

"How long was I unconscious?" he croaked.

"Nearly two days. You had a lot of catching up to do. I imagine you're feeling quite groggy."

He nodded. He turned to the window, weak golden sunlight filtering through the open blinds.

"Is it morning?"

"Yes." She set the water jug down on the table near his bed. "I'll let you gather your thoughts for a moment, and then I expect your friends will want to see you."

After she left Harry lay still, gazing around the little hospital room, his eyes passing over bedside tables, suitcases and torch brackets. It all seemed so different in the aftermath; a lengthy sleep made everything seem more solid, more defined. Real. He gazed down at his hands, flexing his fingers.

He tried to think back to what had happened. The fight, all the blood, the howling wind. It felt like scattered fragments of a jigsaw puzzle, disconnected and incomplete. There was something else tugging at the back of his mind, something distant, something he might have dreamed.

_Draco holding him, his expression frightened, his arms a warm anchor in a sea of confusion. Pain shooting through the haze like barbs of wire. And a soft, terrified voice calling to him._

"_Just hold on, come on Harry__…__ just hang on__…"_

"_Everything hurts,__"__ he whispered, his face screwed up in pain._

_Draco leaning down to kiss him, the taste of blood and fear. "I know," he soothed, blinking back tears. __"__Just hold on, okay?__"_

"_Why?__"_

_Softly spoken question cutting through Draco like a knife. _

"_Because I need you.__"_

"_Why?__"_

"_Because__…__ I -__"_

The memory faded there. Had it been real? Or just a creation of his exhausted, frenzied mind?

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the click of the door handle, he turned; expecting to see Ron and Hermione, maybe Draco. He blinked in surprise when Professor Dumbledore stepped into the room.

"My dear boy," he said, beaming, his robes a deep blue and spangled with stars. Harry felt an immediate sense of comfort cloak him.

"Professor," he said hoarsely. "What happened?"

"The curse has been lifted, Harry," said the headmaster, sitting himself in the chair beside Harry's bed. Morning sunlight glinted off his spectacles. "You fought admirably. We feared for your life for a moment, but you pulled through. With a little help from Malfoy junior, I believe."

"And - and Lucius? Did I really… is he - dead?" Harry asked quietly.

"No," Dumbledore smiled gravely. "You merely destroyed the manifestation of Lucius Malfoy that was created by the curse. Lucius was captive in the dungeons, as you know. He never left. Some part of him, some psychic part, was pulled through to you by the spell he cast. He appeared to be in some form of trance, he could not be moved or Ennervated. His body stayed where it was and yours was a battle of the minds."

"So he could… could he could get into my dreams again?"

"You destroyed that part of him, and the gate that let him through as well. He knew Draco was getting through to you so he pulled you back into the nightmare, where he was stronger. It was a blessing in disguise, it allowed you to harness the powers of your considerable mind and put a stop to the damage he was causing."

"Where is he now?"

"He has been taken to Azkaban to await trial."

Harry slumped back onto the pillow, processing this information.

"Have you seen Draco?" he asked.

"He is recovering, as you are. He suffered quite an ordeal."

"Is he… okay?"

"He will make a full recovery. He has already been discharged from the hospital wing - or rather, he discharged himself." Dumbledores' eyes twinkled. "Madam Pomfrey has insisted he check in for daily inspections."

Harry nodded.

"Professor," he swallowed. "Malfoy - Lucius Malfoy, I mean - he said that… that Voldemort had been creating spells to ensure immortality, to mean that he could never truly be killed. Is that true?"

"You defeated Lord Voldemort, Harry. I am certain of that."

"But if there was a way to bring him back - the key to that… would be me, wouldn't it?"

"No spell can bring people back from the dead, Harry."

"No spell that we know of _yet_ - but what if he found one, or created one? What if -"

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore interrupted gently. "No good will come of endless wondering over what may be. We cannot know the future until it happens."

Harry stared up at him. Those light blue eyes gazed down at him, making him feel like his thoughts were being read. He had a hundred questions he wanted to ask - how could Dumbledore be _certain_ that the Dark Lord was gone for good? But the headmaster smiled his patient, twinkling smile and Harry knew there would be no use in asking. Even Albus Dumbledore could not answer every question. He closed his mouth, defeated. He sighed.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" he asked.

"They have set up permanent residence outside the hospital wing doors, much to Madam Pomfreys' frustration. They will be delighted to know you are awake."

"Can I see them?"

"A very short visit, I think, otherwise Poppy will have my blood." The headmaster stood, the stars on his velvet robes shining. He smiled down at Harry fondly. "Get plenty of rest, Harry, and try not to worry about anything beyond these four walls." He inclined his head slightly, and swept from the room.

Harry watched him go, his mind buzzing. He had slept for nearly forty-eight hours and he still felt tired. He wondered if Draco had sat at his side while he lay unconscious. He wondered if Draco would come visit him now. He wondered if Draco was okay.

"Oh, _Harry_!"

He turned, startled. Hermione dashed towards the bed, grabbing his hand and wringing it in her own.

"You're awake! Oh, thank god you're alright!"

Her eyes shone with tears as she plonked herself down on the bed, Ron circling to the other side and sitting opposite her. He gazed down at Harry with thoughtful concern.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry smiled. "Bit tired, but I'll be fine."

"We thought you were gonna sleep for weeks."

"I feel like I could."

"No more nightmares?" Hermione asked anxiously.

He shook his head. "No more nightmares. Nobody in my head but me."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "It was so scary," she whispered. "I was outside the door with Madam Pomfrey - we could screams and wind blowing, it sounded like a storm right inside this room. We tried to get in but the door handle was jammed. No matter how hard we tried, nothing would budge the door. It was like in a dream," she said softly. "When you're trying to escape, and you just can't. Only the opposite."

"I think Malfoy had control of everything," Harry said. "And he didn't want anybody getting in."

"Malfoy - Draco - he told us what happened, how you beat Lucius."

"Have you seen him?"

"Not since right after you broke the curse. He's checking in with Madam Pomfrey though," Hermione said.

"It's so weird," Ron said hoarsely. His eyes looked bloodshot, edged with dark shadows. "I was in the dungeon with Dumbledore and Remus - Lucius was bound to the spot by Dumbledore, he never left. But we could… sort of _see_ that he had gone, that some part of him was…somewhere else. Like he retreated so far into his own mind that he wasn't there any more. I dunno," he muttered. "It was bizarre. Dumbledore tried everything to bring him back, but nothing worked. He was thrashing and screaming for ages, it was horrible. Then there was like… this big yellow crack and he sort of snapped back into himself."

"And the Ministry came and took him away," Hermione finished.

"Dumbledore told me. He's in Azkaban." Harry said softly.

They sat in silence for a moment, each of them contemplating the different part of the story they had witnessed. Harrys' eyelids felt heavy, his body still slightly numb, buried in the comfortable bed sheets. When Madam Pomfrey came back into the room with a breakfast tray Ron and Hermione left with promises to return soon. Harry waved them off.

"Now then Mr Potter," said Pomfrey authoritatively. "Some breakfast, and then more rest."

"When can I leave?" he asked. He had to find Draco, to talk to him.

"When you are fully recovered. No arguments."

She left with the breakfast tray. He picked absently at toast and scrambled eggs, his mind occupied. Sunlight danced across the cutlery and swirled in the water jug. He wondered what was happening in the outside world, where Lucius Malfoy was now, what he was thinking. He wondered where the rest of the Death Eaters were, that band of the Dark Lords faithful followers that had survived the war and found each other. Malfoy had said they were scattered. How long would it take for them to draw together once more? Harry sighed. Dumbledore was right, worrying it about it would do him no good. There was nothing he could do for now. He set the breakfast tray aside and, yawning, settled back down into the covers. His eyes fluttered closed and he drifted instantly back to sleep.

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**A/N: **Flowing rivers of gratitude to **XxEmoHuggingDotXx, Ailania, ridickulus101, xkohleyesx, foxsmum, SwarmOfFanGirls, eleventy7, Secluded Angel 33, ClayCelloFire, TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket, Cheesemobile, Wafflansypus, Nagini Potter, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Caldonya, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24 **(your new username is much more difficult to type!) **Lady Sakura** and **SkyeEyesSparkle7135. **Thankyou!


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Me no owny.

**A/N: **Call it a belated Christmas present!

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Chapter 35

Twelve hours later, Harry woke with a start. Evening had descended, deep blue twilight filtering through the slats in the blinds. The room was shadowy and silent. Harry lay still, his heart racing, his chest rising and falling fast. He had just suffered a terrible nightmare. Inbetween his regulation pyjamas and his skin was a fine layer of cold sweat.

He pushed the covers back from his upper body, cool air hitting his exposed arms. Habitually he reached his hands out in front of him and squinted down at them, checking for cuts and bruises. Nothing.

This nightmare had not been a by-product of Lucius Malfoys' curse, but the dreams of an overwrought imagination deprived of sleep and faced with terrible things. Harry sighed heavily, slumping back into the mattress. He had been back in that endless space again, unable to run away, waiting in the cold and the dark for something unspeakable to come crawling out of the shadows after him. He scanned the darkening room, a childish fear of the unknown dark creeping through his mind.

He felt more alert, more active than he could remember feeling in weeks. The grey cloud of dragging exhaustion had been lifted. He flipped back the covers and set unsteady feet on the floor. The cold seeped into his skin. He stumbled over to the trunk pushed up against the far wall, flipping open the lid and peering inside.

--

Ten minutes later he was clad in jeans and a thick sweater, making his way cautiously through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. The invisibility cloak was draped over him. He had tiptoed from the hospital wing, eyes fixed on Madam Pomfreys' turned back at the far end of the room, opening the doors the slightest crack and slipping out. He needed fresh air, a change of scenery. He wanted to find Draco.

He knew the Great Hall would be deserted, it was after dinner time. And the library would be closed by now. He passed a few wandering students, seventh years who had a later curfew. The tall ghost of the Grey Lady glided past him. He kept silent, not wanting to be discovered. He could not quite face all the questions yet. He had no idea how much the student body knew about the past three weeks. The shadowy dark pressed in on him as he entered the dungeons, and his heart began to squeeze and thud at the thought of a million hidden menaces lurking in the shadows. The lone torches set far apart along the wall were a comforting beacon. It was colder down here than the corridors above.

Slowing to a halt in front of the blank stretch of stone that hid the Slytherin dungeons, a thought struck Harry. He had been so intent on reaching this point that he had not exactly thought of how he was going to get in. He could hardly knock on the wall and ask to speak to Draco Malfoy.

"Pureblood?" he whispered doubtfully.

Nothing happened. That had been the password five years ago, of course it had changed. He sighed. The silvery folds of the invisibility cloak ruffled.

"Okay… Salazar?" he tried. "Slytherin. Ambition? Muggle scum."

Nothing. Sometimes the Gryffindor passwords were complete nonsense made up by the Fat Lady, he had no chance of guessing correctly. Maybe he could owl Malfoy to make him come out…?

"Open up," he muttered. He tried it in Parseltongue. Still nothing. "Voldemort is the best. Snape rules. Gryffindor is for losers. Let me _in_!"

A distant noise made him whirl around, his heart leaping into his throat. Shadows rippled and distorted along the narrow walls as three girls with green lining in their robes approached. Harry pressed himself against the wall and crossed his fingers.

One of the girls rested a large hand on the blank wall, her small dark eyes fixed on it.

"Lakewater," she said, her voice echoing. The stone wall slid back with a rumbling grind and Harry darted in after them, his heart thudding.

The Slytherin common room was just as he remembered. Long and low, with green lanterns hanging from the stone ceiling and a fire burning in the enormous fireplace. Shadows danced along the cold walls and students sat in groups and knots, talking in lowered voices. It was nothing like the Gryffindor tower. He made his way as quietly as he could past carved chairs and dark furniture, hardly daring to breathe. He felt as though he were inside a snake pit.

He cast around for Draco, for a blonde head amongst the black and brown, but could not see him. He wound his way towards the back of the room, to a low entry carved into the stone and a narrow tunnel beyond. He passed doors labelled with different year groups, boys on the left, girls on the right, until he reached the end and read a small sign on a left hand door that read "Seventh years."

What now? he thought. Knock? Or try to sneak in? Surely if someone was in there they would notice the door opening and closing? What if Draco was in there, but not alone?

If Crabbe and Goyle were in there, that was no problem. They could be outwitted. He had seen Nott in the common room, reading alone. That just left Zabini.

The seconds ticked by. Eventually, steeling his resolve, Harry took a deep breath and reached out to knock quietly on the door.

No answer. He knocked again.

"What?" called an aggravated voice from within. Harry's heart leapt. Dracos' voice. He turned the handle and slipped into the dormitory.

Draco was alone. He sat on a green-covered four-poster in the corner, the drapes tied back. A heavy book lay across his lap. Draco stared up at him unseeingly.

"Who's there?"

"It's me," Harry replied, slipping off the invisibility cloak.

"How did you get in?" said Draco blankly.

He looked worse than Harry felt. He was pale, his eyes huge and dark, outlined with shadows. He did not look like he had been sleeping much. His hair was ruffled, an air of exhaustion clouding him.

"Some girls came in, I followed them."

This room was marginally more cheerful than the cold common room, but still not somewhere Harry would choose to live. The dormitory too was long and narrow with a low ceiling. Four beds were lined against the long wall, and then a fifth, Dracos', at the end against a shorter wall. A door was just to the right, which Harry presumed was a bathroom.

"How - how've you been?" he asked.

Draco gazed up at him, his expression guarded and somewhat confused.

"Fine," he answered. "You look much better."

"Once the curse was lifted Madam Pomfrey could fix all my cuts and bruises in a heartbeat. My arm, too."

Draco nodded. A strange silence fell over them, Harry did not know why but it was awkward. He kept his eyes on Draco, who stared fixedly down at the page before him, his eyes not moving, merely avoiding. The air felt heavy and tense, and Harry was suddenly struck by a strange thought, like none of it had really happened, like they were still enemies and he was down in the Slytherin dungeons with Draco when neither of them had a clue what he was doing there. He swallowed.

"I just -" he began, needing to fill the silence, needing to lift the heavy awkwardness with something, anything. "I just wanted to check that you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"Only you weren't there when I woke up. And… you haven't been to visit."

Draco looked up at him, frowning. His grey eyes seemed shuttered, and when he spoke his voice was clipped and strained. "Did you need me to?"

Harry blinked. "W-well, I -"

"The curse is lifted now, Potter. You don't need my help anymore."

"I know, but -"

"Everything's back to normal then," Draco interrupted. He stared, unmoving, up at Harry. "Don't you remember what we said at the beginning? A temporary truce, and when it was over we would go back to how things were before."

Harry felt a dreadful falling horror in his stomach, like he was stumbling backwards, losing his footing. He stared at the blonde boy in front of him, who turned away, gazing back down at the book in his lap.

"How things … were?"

"Before any of this happened."

"But - Draco, I thought - after everything that's happened, you just want to go back to hating each other?"

"That's what we planned, isn't it?"

"Yes, but -"

"Look, Potter," Draco sighed. He carefully closed the book and set it down on the mattress, rising to his feet. He moved in towards Harry, frowning. "Whatever we thought we might be feeling -" he lifted a hand and touched his fingertips to Harry's hairline, slowly brushing them down across the dark fringe. Then he blinked, cleared his throat. "It was all just a side-effect of the curse. Now that it's gone… there's no reason why we can't just forget it ever happened."

"_Forget_ -? You're going to go back to the other side? Your father -"

"_My father is in prison_," Draco snarled, cutting across him harshly, and Harry closed his mouth, suddenly afraid. That topic was off limits.

"What are you going to do?"

"That's none of your business, Potter."

Harry stared at him. A thick, panicked dread was filling his throat, his lungs did not seem to want to take in enough air. _How_ could Draco say he wanted to forget - _everything_?

"Was there anything else?"

Draco gazed at him, an impatient, angry expression on his face. Harry wanted to grab him and shake him and make him snap out of it. He wanted to grab him and -

"No," he said quietly. "No. I'll just…"

He turned, pulling the invisibility cloak across his shoulders and over his head. He stumbled to the door, feeling distant, reaching out a hand that felt like it did not belong to him. He grasped the doorknob, feeling his defences crumble. He turned back to see Draco staring unseeingly at him, his face struggling to remain blank. Harry staggered through the door and out into the dark corridor beyond, closing the door behind him.

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**A/N: **Thank yooouuuu to** XxEmoHuggingDotXx, meghan7474, evildictionaryninja, Lady Sakura of the Fated, TheGirlWthCheeseInHerPocket, eleventy7, Dezra, Nagini Potter, SwarmOfFanGirls, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24, Secluded Angel 33 **and** SkyeEyesSparkle7135**. You guys rock. **Happy holidays!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary:** A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine except the words.

**A/N:** The relief when you didn't all strike me down in disgust over the last chapter was quite spectacularly huge. We're drawing ever closer to the end now! If you're reading and haven't reviewed yet - why not? D:

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Chapter 37

Harry checked himself out of the hospital wing the following day, much to Madam Pomfreys' outrage.

"You still require extensive treatment in order to recover!"

"I don't care," Harry said shortly. "I've got to get out of here."

Now, two days later, sitting in the once-familiar surroundings of the Gryffindor dormitory, a strange emptiness was growing in his stomach. It was late March now, the winter storms subsided and silent frost creeping in spidery trails across the glass of the windows. The castle grounds were crisp and white with ice, every room bitingly cold unless fires burned in the grates around the clock.

Harry had been subjected to endless questioning when he rejoined his classmates for lessons. He told them nothing; Ron and Hermione made up stories of St. Mungos, of an illness Harry did not wish to discuss. Everyone was in the Great Hall now for dinner; but Harry craved the solitude of an empty dormitory. He sat cross-legged on his four-poster, staring blankly down at his hands. He was behind in all of his classes. People stared and whispered more than ever when he walked by. He was still having trouble sleeping.

But worse than all of this was the aching loneliness that dug at his chest with every passing moment. He slept alone now, studied alone, woke up from terrible nightmares with nobody to ease the fear. He hated that he had become so dependent on one person. The physical craving itch for contact with Draco had subsided, but Harry's mind was still always filled with blonde hair and stormy eyes, pale skin and warm, comforting arms. He hated it.

He had not seen Draco at all for three days, and it required getting used to solitude after so many weeks spent in relentless company. Ron and Hermione often sat with him, they took meals together and classes, but Harry crept away to be alone every evening. He sat in the warm cocoon of blankets on his red four-poster, and his thoughts were dark and troubled.

A quiet knock at the dormitory door startled him. He blinked up at the doorway, wondering who on earth would knock before entering. He cleared his throat and called softly.

"Come in."

The latch clicked and Hermione peered around the door.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Mind if I come in?"

He shook his head, and Hermione came to perch herself on the edge of his bed, eyeing him appraisingly. The curtains were drawn and the room dimly lit with a few flickering candles and the fire burning in the grate.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, her voice full of concern. She studied Harry's appearance, his uncombed hair and pale, drawn face. He looked tired and unhappy. He nodded. "Sure? We haven't seen much of you lately, seems like you can't wait to get up here and sit alone by yourself."

Harry smiled slightly. "I'm okay," he said, his voice quiet and hoarse. "Just thinking."

"What about?"

He shrugged. It seemed to be rolling off him in waves; the resentment, the confusion and forlornness. Hermione bit her lip and asked tentatively "Have you spoken to Malfoy lately?"

Harry looked up at her warily. His eyes were huge and circled with deep shadows, his fingers absently playing with the scarlet bed sheets.

"Saw him just before I left the hospital wing."

"He came to see you?"

"No. I went to see him."

"And what happened?"

Harry sighed. "Nothing. Nothing happened… or ever will happen. He made his feelings perfectly clear."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. She felt she could not quite understand this side to Harry - the curse was lifted, Malfoy was imprisoned. There had been a moment after he woke up when it seemed everything would go back to normal, Harry would recover and they could put the entire horrible mess behind them. Now… he seemed to have slipped back into the same hopelessness, the defeated aura clinging to him as he hid something from her and Ron that she could not quite grasp.

"He wants to go back to how things were before."

"Before…?"

"Before the truce. We called a temporary truce to get through the past few weeks… and now he wants to go back to normal." Harry swallowed, looking up at her dejectedly. "He wants to forget any of this ever happened."

"And that's bad?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry raised a hand and rubbed at his eyes like a tired child. Hermiones' heart went out to him.

"It's not bad that he wants to forget what happened," Harry mumbled. "I do too. I just…" he sighed. "I didn't think that he'd want to forget me, too."

Hermione stared at him. A faint blush rose onto the dark haired boys cheeks, barely visible in the dimly lit room. He averted his eyes, staring fixedly down at his hands as he continued to trace small meaningless patterns across the duvet.

"Oh," she exclaimed softly, surprised. "But - the spell, I thought… you mean even with the curse broken, you still…?" she stared at the downtrodden boy beside her, his face cast in shadows. "You still want to be around him?"

"He saved my life," Harry whispered.

"What do you feel for him?"

Harry looked up at her, her expression one of startled astonishment. Silence grew around them, the fire crackling merrily and sending warmth into the cold dormitory. Harry thought of the blonde haired boy, what he might be doing now, of everything they had shared with each other. He thought of Dracos' lips against his and felt his face flush.

"I don't know."

"But you were under the spell - he wasn't, and he still kissed you! Surely that proves…?"

"You weren't there, Hermione. You didn't see him." Harry's mind was pulled back to that moment in the Slytherin dormitory for the thousandth time, and he felt a tight coldness squeeze at his heart. "He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"But -"

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I see it from his point of view," he mumbled. "Why would he want to be any near me? I put him through hell, I put his father in prison. He _should_ hate me."

"You're really falling for him?"

The question startled him, and the answer came tumbling to the forefront of his mind before he could stop it. He cast his thoughts back to that strange moment before the darkness had taken him, those few eternal seconds that he still was not sure were dream or reality. When Draco had held him and kissed him and begged him not to give in.

_"Just hold on, okay?" Draco blinking back tears, his voice breaking, desperate._

_"Why?"_

_"Because I need you."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because… I -"_

Harry shook his head. It could not have happened, Draco would never cut him off and abandon him if he had really been about to say what Harry thought came next. He wished he knew for certain the end of that sentence. He wished he knew for definite it was only a dream.

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "It's over either way."

Hermione gazed at him sadly. Her best friend, her beloved Harry. She hated that he had been through so much torment. And now this… had he really fallen for his arch-enemy? She would murder Draco Malfoy for breaking Harrys' heart.

"Have you tried talking to him?"

Harry shook his head. "He doesn't want to talk."

"He probably just doesn't know what to say. You know what Malfoy's like Harry - you shouldn't just give up, especially when it's making you this unhappy. If you really do… care about him - which by the way is completely bizarre -" she smiled, and Harry let out a soft, reluctant laugh. "- then you ought to try and sort this out. But… give it a bit of time first, okay? You're still recovering." She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Maybe all of this will fade if you just give it time."

Harry smiled wanly. "I'm kinda tired," he said hoarsely.

"Right - I've got to go anyway," Hermione replied. She patted him consoling on the arm before getting to her feet. "Get some rest, Harry."

He nodded, and watched her make her way out of the dormitory, the door clicking quietly shut behind her. He sighed and rolled over onto his side, curling into the bed sheets, feeling a slight twinge in his chest as he did so. The knife wound had been deep and intensely magical, and Madam Pomfrey had not been able to heal it completely, though Harry had not told anybody that. Another scar to add to the collection. He stared into the crackling fire, watching the bright flames flicker and dance, casting distorted shadows across the dusky room. Hermione was wrong, he knew.

Whatever had caused Draco to momentarily care about him had just been a side-effect of the curse. Maybe Lucius had accidentally created a two-way attachment when he only wanted Harry to depend on Draco. He didn't know. But it was over, that was certain. Draco had been so blank with him, so uncaring. It made his chest ache to think of it. He curled himself into a tight ball and closed his eyes, ignoring the immediate tingle of fear that sparked into life in his head at the thought of prowling shadows creeping through the unwatched darkness.

Harry lay still, waiting for sleep to take him. He banished all thoughts of soft hair and grey eyes, and the feel of a warm embrace. That was in the past now. The curse was gone, and so was Draco. Harry had lost him. He was going to have to forget about him, too.

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**A/N:** Review thankies to **Dezra** (you leave Draco alone - he's damaged!) **TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket** (No, I'm not that mean! And… you fell over? xD) **Eizoku, Wafflansypus, evildictionarynina, Nagini Potter** (awww I'm so glad you liked it)** meghan7474** (cue more warm fuzzies :]) **ClayCelloFire, globalfaerie, SwarmOfFanGirls, cyiusblack, dobeisme** (thank you so much for your review, while I do of course adore all the squeeing that reviewers do it's nice to get some feedback on grammar and stuff too) **GothicBlackRose, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, XxEmoHuggingDotXx, Suguri Takeuchi-chan, eleventy7, Cheesemobile, Caldonya, Chelsea** (thank you for your review, I love that you stayed up all night to read it!) and **Lady Sakura**. I do solemnly swear that this fic will be done and dusted by January 18th at the very latest - because I'm going travelling and can't be updating from the other side of the world. Loveage!


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine except the words.

**A/N: **Speedy update yaaaaay!

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Chapter 38

Draco Malfoy was not thinking about going to Potions. He was not thinking about it in a huge, glacially indifferent way, in order to disguise the fact that he could not stop thinking about it and was really very worried. The torches flickered with a greenish glow along the winding dungeon corridors, his breath coming out in a visible cloud of fog. It was early afternoon, but no daylight made its way to the underbelly of the castle.

He walked with the dragging feet of a condemned man to the narrow black wood door of the chilly dungeon, his senses tingling, his throat sticking. This was the first class he had since returning to lessons that he shared with…

_Potter. _

Harry sat halfway along the rows of dark benches, his head bowed, dark hair sticking out in a million directions. He was sandwiched inbetween Granger and Weasley. Draco allowed his eyes to pass over them for half a second to take this in, before heading past them towards his seat near the front of the class. The chair next to his remained empty as the rest of the pupils slowly filed in. Dracos' expression was carefully blank.

He had kept mostly to himself since leaving that tiny hospital room, he gave sharp retorts to any student who asked where he had been for the past month and stuck mainly to the library and his dormitory. He had the feeling of constantly being stared at, scrutinised. He thought maybe the school knew his disappearance had something to do with Harry. People could add two and two together after all; he and Harry had both gone missing at the same time and returned within days of one another too. Rumours were circulating the school that Lucius Malfoy had been inside the castle near midnight last week. Draco felt a sick swirl of anger clouding his senses at the thought. He wondered if people had been questioning Harry.

_Potter_, he corrected himself. _Potter_. He could _feel_ those green eyes burning into him, staring at his turned back with unbroken intensity, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Professor Snape swept into the dungeon classroom.

"Sit down," he barked at the latecomers, his black robes sweeping out behind him, making the torches and candles flicker as he passed. He reached the front, his empty black eyes boring into the students. The wall behind him stretched outwards, crammed with glass jars in which unpleasant things floated in pickling fluids. The doors to the store rooms stood slightly ajar in each corner. Snape banged a large dusty textbook on the desk and waved his wand at the blackboard. "Begin," he snapped.

Draco studied the board, flipping through his textbook and making a mental list of ingredients. Potions was simple, Potions was his thing. He could forget everybody else in the room during Potions. Hopefully. He straightened up, tensing and relaxing his muscles, and dared a quick backwards glance towards Potter.

The Gryffindor boy was flicking uninterestedly through his textbook, quill in one hand, while Weasley scribbled down a list of ingredients narrated by Granger. A small empty cauldron sat on the table between them. Harry looked tired, his eyes dark and shadowed. Draco studied him for perhaps three seconds until Harry became aware of someone watching him and looked up, frowning. His gaze fell upon Draco.

Eye contact. _Shit_.

Draco whirled around, rising quickly to his feet. He headed for the store room to his left, cold and dark. The four walls were tightly pressed around him, rising up and up with a high scrolling ladder attached. Ingredients beginning with the letter A started right at the very top, high enough to make you feel dizzy. You had to get down on your knees and scrape the floor to find the Z's. Draco liked the store room.

In that split second of eye contact he had seen surprise register on Potters' face, along with confusion. Harry's grip on his quill had slackened. Draco swallowed and looked up, his eyes scanning for a small faded sticker with the letter T. He needed tubeworms and toad eyes.

"Hey," came an unexpected soft voice from behind him. He turned, startled, to see a small, dark haired figure standing before him. Harry.

--

"It's _freezing_ in here," Ron moaned, wrapping his cloak around himself and breathing warm air onto his hands.

"Light the fire then, idiot," Hermione muttered, not looking up from her textbook. Her hair was pinned back, strands of it falling down across her face. Harry watched them both absently, turning his quill over in his hands.

When he had looked up and seen Draco staring at him, Harry had felt his heart squeeze and thud painfully in his chest. They gazed at each other for half a second, Dracos' expression one of startled guilt - before the blonde boy had whirled around and strode away towards the store room.

Harry had felt ever so slightly shaken, like his mind had been put a few seconds out of sync with his body. A tingling shockwave went through him as he thought about Draco staring at him. He had looked around, suddenly self-conscious - but the rest of the class were busy lighting fires under cauldrons or scribbling down notes from the blackboard. Nobody had noticed their momentary exchange.

"Harry? _Harry_?"

He jumped. Ron was staring at him, his hand raised to wave it in front of Harrys face.

"What?"

"You alright mate?"

"Yeah - fine."

"Can you go get these ingredients from the storeroom?" Ron asked, handing him a scrap of parchment covered in his untidy scrawl.

"Yeah," he said softly.

Heading slowly for the front of the class, passing Neville as he poured Bundimun secretion into his cauldron, Harry kept his expression impassive as an emotional war waged inside him. Draco was in the left hand store room - the one on the right was occupied by two Slytherins. To go right, or left? His mind span furiously. Right or left?

A dull boom suddenly sounded behind, he gasped and turned to see a mushroom cloud of green smoke blooming outwards from Nevilles' cauldron.

"Longbottom!" snapped Professor Snape over the ensuing commotion. People scrabbled backwards to avoid the green fog of spreading smoke. Snape pulled out his wand furiously and Harry ducked quickly to the left to avoid being pinned down and blamed for the accident. He hurried into the nearest store room, looking back to see Snape banishing the cloud of smoke, revealing a terrified, green-skinned Neville cowering beside a mangled cauldron.

Harry backed into the small room, pulling the door partly shut behind him. He turned, the small list of ingredients still clutched in his hand - and there, standing in front of him, was Draco.

He considered escaping back out the way he came - but seemed rooted to the spot. He did not want to leave. His heart was thudding painfully.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, his throat constricted with nerves.

Draco turned, startled.

"Oh," he said blankly. "Hello."

It seemed strange for Draco to be back in his school robes. Harry was used to seeing him in t-shirts, jeans and hospital wing-issued pyjamas. His robes were lined with emerald green, a small Slytherin crest embroidered on the front. Harry felt like the time they had spent together in the infirmary was a lifetime ago - this disconnected Draco standing in front of him during lessons did not seem like the same Draco who had sat holding his hand in the hospital wing, dressed in casual clothes and sharing the same emotions with him, the same pressing fear and loss of hope.

"How… how are you?" Harry asked. It felt like a loop, taking them back to the last week in the dungeons, to that awful conversation that had ruined everything Harry had been hoping for.

Draco smiled wryly.

"Fine." He carefully studied a small jar filled with tiny floating eyeballs, keeping his expression blank. "You?"

Harry stared at him. "Been better," he said bluntly.

The tinkle of breaking glass came from outside, and several students yelled.

"What's going on out there?" Draco asked.

"Neville's destroying things."

"Oh."

They stared around themselves pointedly, Draco gazing at the contents of the shelves before him, Harry staring down at the floor, a slight blush painting his cheeks. Silence stretched out between them, tense and horrible, making the air seem heavy. Harry shifted slightly onto the other foot, he didn't want to - he did not want to move, but he had to do something to break the frozen awkwardness. He could not stop thinking about that dream, or memory, or whatever it had been. The list of potion components rustled ever so slightly in his hand.

"I need ingredients," he said stupidly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you need?"

Passing him the crumpled parchment mutely, Harry felt heat spreading across his face and down his neck. Even now Malfoy had the ability to make him feel like a complete and utter moron.

The blonde haired boy stepped up the wooden ladder, pulling packets and vials from the dusty shelves and passing them down to Harry. He muttered under his breath as he mentally ticked each ingredient from the list.

"Push me," he instructed suddenly.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I need to get the lionfish, it's on the other side of the wall. Push me."

Harry circled the ladder, pressing his hands to the side, level with Dracos' thighs. He pushed, and the ladder slid creakily across the rollers, moving across the stone wall to the other side. Harry bit his lip, stifling a laugh.

Draco stared down at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, and chuckled. Draco rolled his eyes.

"For gods' sake, Potter."

He chucked a packet of powdered lionfish down to Harry, who caught it in one hand. Stepping back down the ladder, Draco dusted his robes. Harry was still standing at the base, his arms full of ingredients. They were suddenly standing very close.

"That everything?" Draco asked quietly, gazing at the dark haired boy in front of him.

Harry swallowed. The cold little room seemed to be heating up, outside noise seemed to be drowning away. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Thanks."

They gazed at each other for a moment, not looking away. A tight wire of unnamed emotions twisted together and coiled around Harrys' heart, constricting his chest. Draco opened his mouth uncertainly.

"So-"

The store room door was yanked open unexpectedly and they jerked apart, scattering packets of dried ingredients across the floor. Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown stood staring at them wide-eyed, open-mouthed. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in a confined space together… without raised wands and heated shouting?

"We need ingredients," said Seamus stupidly.

"Gryffindors," muttered Draco, and stalked out. He did not look back. He never looked back, thought Harry.

He ignored the hissing, frantic questions from Seamus and Lavender and stumbled back to his seat, tipping the armfuls of ingredients onto the desk beside Ron and Hermione. His breath fogged out in a visible cloud and he shivered.

"What took you so long?" asked Ron, holding his hands up to the orange flames licking the underside of the small cauldron. Snape swept through the class, picking on Gryffindors and praising the work of the Slytherins. Hermione picked out sachets and cartons, placing things in order of use according to the textbook.

"Couldn't find the lionfish," Harry muttered. He glanced over at Draco, lighting his cauldron and pulling loose sheets of parchment towards him. Draco did not turn to look at him.

"Let's get started," Hermione said, drawing her wand. "Pass the lacewing, Ron."

Harry spent the remainder of the lesson in a state of flustered confusion, and Ron and Hermione looked at each with concern every time his concentration slipped and he lifted his quill to stare, unrealising, at the slight, blonde haired figure sitting two rows in front of him.

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**A/N: **I didn't like to write too much about Snape because I'm so scared of messing him up! So let's just pretend he was in an even fouler mood than usual and didn't want to speak to anybody xD Thankyou thankyooouuuu to **bittersweet, UzamakiKitsune, VANITYduca **(thankyou so much J), **GothicBlackRose, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, bookgirl239, ****globalfaerie **(ack, thankyou SO much for pointing out that mistake 3) **Angel of Immortality, Caldonya** (xD your review made me laugh), **estel, ChelseaBB, Lady Sakura, Nagini Potter, SwarmOfFanGirls **and **Suguri Takeuchi-chan**.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Do you really think I own Harry Potter? If I did that epilogue wouldn't exist, for starters. And slash would be a waaaaay more predominant theme.

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Chapter 39

At the end of the class Draco took a long time clearing away his potions ingredients, tidying up spills and setting all his notes and parchments into order. His hair fell down across his face and he did not look up, concentrating firmly on the task in hand. He heard Snape sweep past him and out towards the dungeon corridors, until silence settled like a dusty blanket over the chilly underground classroom. Draco carried on packing ink bottles and quills into his bag, crumpling up empty packets to throw away. He did not look around but he was certain he was not alone.

The seconds ticked by and he ran out of tasks to occupy his hands, the silence pressing down on him like a heavy weight. The fire underneath his simmering cauldron crackled. He turned towards the front of the classroom, gazing at the blackboard as he picked up his bag. He sighed.

"What do you want now?" he asked, finally turning to see Potter standing halfway down the room, staring at him, twisting his hands nervously.

Harry blinked.

"Just… to say thanks for before," he answered. He looked better than Draco had seen him for a while, his eyes less shadowed, his skin flushed with more colour. His hair was still infuriatingly scruffy though, and an aura of defeated uncertainty hung around him as always.

"You're welcome."

They gazed at each other from opposite ends of the room, Draco's expression one of blank disinterest, Harry biting his lip and looking uneasy. Tense silence filled the air.

"Anything else?" Draco said tersely.

"No. Yes." Harry made his way to the front of the class, drawing closer to Draco. "Earlier - in the store room. Before Seamus and Lavender came in."

"What about it?"

"You started to say something."

Draco stared at him blankly. "No I didn't."

"You did. You said 'so…' and then… we were interrupted." Harry gazed up at him through a curtain of dark hair, his expression one of ill-concealed hope. Draco was appalled by it. He would _never_ let his emotions show so clearly on his face. He felt a twist of sickened self-hate at what he was doing to them both, but it only served to strengthen his resolve.

"I don't remember. It was probably just 'so, we're done here and I'm leaving.' Which is all I have to say right now, too. Goodbye, Potter."

He turned to leave, any small pang of regret overshadowed by determined fury and a kind of disconnected hatred. A hand shot out and closed firmly around his wrist, tugging him back.

"Wait."

"Get _off_ me," Draco hissed, wrenching his arm away, his bag dropping to the dusty stone floor. "What the hell are you doing, Potter?"

"Why are you being like this? I don't believe for a second that you don't care about any of this any more. You think you're so superior," Harry said scornfully. "But I spent three weeks in your company and I can see past _every_ mask you put up, Draco Malfoy. You don't fool me."

"What are you talking about?" Draco snapped, his heart pounding. Harry yanked him closer and Draco stumbled against him, their bodies inches apart, staring into each others eyes with an intensity that went far beyond hatred.

"I know you," Harry said, his voice quiet, angry. He had felt so lifeless, so devoid of energy for the past few days. Draco made him feel alive, it did not matter if they were kissing or arguing. Draco stirred up his emotions and he _couldn't_ stand by and let this pass. "Better than anybody has ever known you before, Draco. You told me things, remember? You told me how you felt -"

"That was the _curse_," Draco snarled.

"The curse was cast on me, not you!"

"How the hell can you know that? How can you possibly know anything about what happened?" Draco yelled, shoving Harry away from him. He felt furious, disgusted; anger simmered through his veins like poison and he wanted to launch himself at Potter, but he did not dare, incase…

Anything might happen when he came into contact with Harrys' warm, smooth skin.

"There's only one explanation for anything I might have felt - before," he said, his voice low and full of fire. "And that is the curse."

"It's not the only explanation! Are you really so _stubborn_ you won't even acknowledge the fact that _maybe_ -"

"There's nothing to acknowledge! You think you know me, Potter," Draco spat, drawing closer until they were eye to eye, his hands shaking. Shadows cast by a dozen flickering fires danced all around them. "You don't know _anything_ about me."

Harry stared at him unblinkingly. Dark hair fell down into his vivid green eyes, and Draco wanted to simultaneously smooth it back and yank it out. The cold air licked against their warm skin. Harry stood his ground, radiating a small, powerful aura of steadiness.

"Yes I do," he said softly. He took a deep, calming breath and moved ever so slightly closer, watching Dracos' eyes widen the tiniest fraction. He could almost see what the blonde haired boy was thinking. And he had never wanted anything so badly in his entire life. He leant forward to close the gap between them and pressed his lips hungrily against Dracos'.

It was overwhelming, the pure desire for Draco stormed through him in seconds. They stumbled, Dracos' gasp of surprise muffled in the kiss. A temporary jolt of fear shook Harry - but it was lost when Draco wrapped him arms around Harry, kissing him back, pulling him up onto his tiptoes. Draco moaned, and a desperate clawing need rose up inside him. He pulled Harry as close as he could, their bodies pressed tight together, hearts beating frantically. Dracos' lips were so soft, the feeling of kissing him was amazing, terrifying, overpowering. Harry could feel Draco's hands on his waist, gripping him, in his hair, cupping his face. A rush of longing thrilled through him. This was what he wanted all along.

"Draco…" he moaned.

Draco felt a thousand emotions storming inside him as they kissed; desire, longing, anger, betrayal, fear, he was still torn between two different lives, two different Dracos. One belonged to Harry, always had, always would. The other could not be separated from the life he had always meant to lead, from everything his father wanted.

His _father_.

Draco wrenched backwards, shoving Harry away from him as hard as he could. His eyes burned with hatred, he shook all over with nauseated intensity. He raised a hand and scrubbed fiercely at his mouth, glaring at Harry.

"Don't fucking touch me again," he spat.

"What -?"

"You sent my father to prison," he snarled. "You destroyed my entire life. I have no family, no standing, no home, _nothing_ - because of you."

Harry stared at him, his brain temporarily jammed. How could one person change so swiftly from one mood to the next? He shook his head at Draco disbelievingly. The cold of the dungeon seemed to settle back over him. "You're _blaming me_ for what your father did to me? None of this is my fault! Do you really think I _wanted_ this?"

"Oh poor suffering Potter, none of us have any idea what you're going through, do we?"

"You were there for the entire thing. I thought you might," Harry snapped. "I know you must be upset about your father but for gods sake, Draco -"

The blonde boy raised a hand, silencing him. His expression was instantly wiped of all anger, blank and cold. Harry hated it more than when Draco was mad.

"Don't," the Slytherin boy said quietly, his voice hard with emotion, his grey eyes stormy. He did not want to discuss that. His pale fingers slowly curled closed, his hand trembling. Leaning to pick up his satchel, his heart was pounding, his mouth tingling.

"Please," he said quietly, his mind a whirlwind of emotion. "Don't." More than anything he just wanted to lie down in a dark, quiet room and think things through. He just want to forget. He turned away, making his way through the cold dungeon lit by flickering firelight. Harry watched him go, a tight ball of pain clenched in his throat and chest. As he reached the door Draco did something he had never done before; he turned back. His eyes were lit with intense emotion, searching Harrys' face. He sighed. "Just leave me alone, Harry."

And then he was gone. Harry stood staring at the empty space where he had stood, his mind reeling from the sudden argument and the brief, heated exchange. He did not understand at all. Cold air stung his face and hands as he stood in the silence, biting his lip, thinking. Draco was scared, he thought. Of what had happened, of what might happen. He would never admit it, but he did not need to. Harry knew. Draco was running out of options and running out of time. And Harry was not going to give up that easily.

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Draco made his way slowly back to the Slytherin common room, feeling heavy and tired. He would skip dinner, he was not hungry. The winding corridors of the dungeons seemed narrower and more oppressive than usual. Everything seemed darker, filled with shadows. He muttered the password to the blank stretch of stone wall and wove through the empty common room, up to the seventh year dormitories. He wanted to lie down.

No light reached the underground dorm room. The darkness was thick and impenetrable, making Draco feel uneasy. He waved his wand, uttering the incantation that would light the lamps. Nothing happened. He fumbled for the lantern he knew was on a desk just inside the door, tried to light it with his wand. Nothing.

_"Lumos_," he whispered.

A tiny flare of white light shone from the tip of his wand. He blinked at its small shining brightness, waiting for his eyes to become accustomed. Shadows seemed to ripple and dart across the dark room. Dracos' sharp gaze scanned the dormitory, chasing the shadows. Something felt wrong.

"Hello?" he whispered hoarsely.

A sudden noise from the far end of the room startled him. He clutched his wand tight, fear trickling down his spine. The silence seemed thin, oppressive. The darkness was barely penetrated by the tiny light of his wand. He could just make out the solid black curve of the nearest bed, the desk before him with the unlit lamp. Everything else dissolved into unyielding darkness. A noise came again from the far end of the room.

"Hello?" he called again. "Someone there? What - why aren't the lanterns lighting?"

Shuffling, dragging footsteps. Dracos' heart squeezed painfully tight and he squinted into the shadows, trying to make out a figure. The barely audible sound of ragged breathing reached his ears. His senses were stretched like wires, unknown fear sticking at the back of his throat. His mind went inexplicably to Harry.

"Is there someone there?" he whispered.

The sound of footsteps grew nearer. Draco did not know if his eyes were playing tricks on him but he thought he could see the outline of a figure set into the shadows, a thicker, solid black against the dark background. He tried to turn around and head for the common room, head for daylight, but he could not make his feet move. A slight glint of grey in the darkness caught his eye, like the shine of an eye reflected in dim candlelight. There was someone - something - in the room with him.

"Who's there?" he asked, his voice faltering.

Sudden, darting movement in front of him and with dawning terror he watched as the skeletal, demonic figure of Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the shadows towards him.

"_Draco_," he hissed.

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**A/N: **We hit the 400+ review mark! I honestly just CAN'T thank you guys enough for everything nice you've said. You rock my world. **Libbie da Loony, Slash Superqueen, Caldonya, ClayCelloFire, bittersweet, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, VANITYduca, meghan7474, BrilliantGreenEyes, Secluded Angel 33, Nagini Potter, SwarmOfFanGirls, cyiusblack, Yepp., Potterdownthestreet, UzamakiKitsune, eleventy7, Suguri Takeuchi-chan, evildictionaryninja, Eizoku, Natasha AKA Tash, dobeisme, bannana2, Lady Sakura, Mersedes **and **ChelseaBB**… thank you :)


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Do you really think I own Harry Potter? If I did that epilogue wouldn't exist, for starters. And slash would be a waaaaay more predominant theme.

**A/N: **Heyyy what do ya know? Turns out I can update from the other side of the world xD More specifically Tokyo! Vast apologies for such a distance between updates. I really hope you'll not all bored of this yet x

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Chapter 40

Draco stared, a sick, horrified numbness gripping at him. This… could not be. It was not possible, not now, not after everything. He felt the dreamlike slide into terror again, the grip on the strings of reality loosening. Lucius… _here?_

Lucius' eyes glittered with malice, his robes more torn and dirtied than ever. His skeletal fingers flexed at his sides, mouth curling into an emaciated sneer. He stood solid and real in Dracos' dormitory, not blurring like static, not flickering out of sight. This was no dream, no creature from the imagination. This was the real Lucius Malfoy.

"H-how?" Draco whispered, his throat hard and stuck, his nerves hot inside him like electric currents. Darkness pressed in on him from every side. "They took you away!"

Lucius smirked. He took slow, advancing steps towards Draco, fluid as a jungle cat - and some distant working part of Dracos' brain wondered how someone so starved and insane could still possess such agility in motion.

"The servants of the Dark Lord will not be made captive again," Lucius hissed. "Always we will rise, resurface - stronger and a thousand times more powerful than ever before. Have you learned nothing? Against the legions of the Dark Lord they cannot hope to succeed."

He drew ever closer, his dark eyes boring into Draco hungrily, Draco wanted to back away, wanted to turn and run and raise the alarm. But he could not. He was frozen. _Harry_, he thought distantly.

"They won't let you take him," he whispered. Fear ran in icy shivers along his spine, his sense heightened painfully, his eyes huge and burning, fixed on Lucius' slowly advancing figure. A manic aura danced around the murderous Death Eater, twisting and burning around a core of pure, black hate. Draco could almost see it pulsating and burning. He tried to stumble backwards, lost his footing, nearly slipped. All the time his eyes never left his father.

Lucius chuckled maliciously.

"Potter will be taken in due time. The armies are gathering force, drawing together. We will rise up and take this castle and the boy by force," he hissed. His voice was barely a whisper and yet pierced into Draco like a cold knife. The blonde boy stumbled backwards, hit the closed door, fumbled desperately for the handle.

Lucius prowled towards him through the darkness, unbroken except for the tiny glimmer of light shining from the wand still clutched in Dracos' hand. He was so unrecognisable from the wealthy groomed wizard that Draco knew. He stopped when they were inches apart, glaring down at Draco with his awful insane smile.

"At the present moment," he whispered. "My main concern is you."

A vice-like terror gripped Draco. He felt himself slipping into a black abyss at the edges of his consciousness, a cloud of pure animal panic threatening to overwhelm him.

"W-what do you mean?" he said hoarsely. His rapid heartbeat filled his ears, a thudding roar of blood.

"I mean…" Lucius hissed, his cold voice sending dancing pinpricks of fear along Dracos' skin, his back pressed up against the door and Lucius bearing down on him. He was trapped. "Did you really believe I would allow you to live after your betrayal? My _son_," he snarled, sudden fury sparking, a hand striking out and grabbing a fistful of blonde hair, gripping tight. His face was twisted with malice. Draco struggled, a cry of pain and fear escaping him.

"Father - please!"

"_My son_," Lucius repeated in a deadly hiss. "Traitor to the Dark Lord, servant to the enemy."

"Father - I didn't know it was you, I didn't know what you wanted me to do!"

"And yet," growled Lucius. "Since discovering the truth you have still made no move to harm the boy?"

Draco stared. Endless dark, glittering eyes bored into him, burning him. Lucius had him by the hair and Draco kept painfully still, not wanting to tempt his father into causing him more harm.

"Well?" Lucius snarled.

"I'm sorry, father - please, let me go -"

"I think not," Lucius grinned. He raised his free hand, flexing his fingers in front of Dracos' face. "You have betrayed the Dark Lord, you have deserted your family. The bonds which you have so determinedly severed will now be cut… forever." He snapped his fingers in Dracos' face, making him jump and wince at the tight pull of fingers in his hair. He tried to think of Harry - what would Potter do? Fight back, he knew. But this was not any enemy, this was Dracos' father and it had been burned into him his whole life that you _do what father says_. Draco was terrified of him. He could hardly breathe, let alone move or think up an escape plan. His breath came out in ragged, stuttering bursts.

"I'm your son," he whispered.

Lucius shook his head once, smiling. "No," he hissed. "You are a traitor. You know better than most that traitors must be dealt with."

"N-no -"

The fist clutching at his hair tightened, Draco struggled, breathing in the choking smell of musty robes and sweat, his fingers scrabbling at the hand that held him, feeling hair tug from his scalp as he prised away the bony fingers, shoving his father, sending him stumbling backwards. Lucius tripped, caught himself, glaring through the dark at Draco with malicious, glittering eyes.

"Do not dishonour yourself further," Lucius hissed, panting hard. "You knew this was your fate. Did you think you could escape this because you are my son? That only makes your treachery greater."

"The Ministry will come back for you," Draco gasped. "They'll find you - this is the first place they'll look! Father - just leave, I won't tell them you were here. Just run."

"You wish me to go free… after the curse I placed on your precious Potter?"

"He's not - Harry - Potter, I mean - he's… nothing to me."

Barking laughter escaped Lucius Malfoy. It seemed painfully loud in the dark silence - Draco could only hope someone might hear, might come running. The common room was empty when he came through, but maybe somebody… although what help would a roomful of Slytherins be? Most of them would be only too happy to help his father, he knew. To serve the cause of Lord Voldemort.

"Stupid boy," snarled Lucius. He drew a wand from lifeless tattered robes and Draco wondered wildly where on earth he might have got a wand from. Lucius pointed it directly at Dracos' throat. "I've seen into Potters' dreams, into the deepest corners of his mind. I know the feelings he harbours for you and the attachment you have to him. _Harry Potter_," spat his father, enraged. "If the Dark Lord were here he would destroy you… I am his right-hand man, I must do the job he cannot do himself. In his name," Lucius hissed, a fervent spark of reverence in his eyes.

"Harry Potter has defeated the Dark Lord more times than I can remember! A Malfoy picks the winning side, father - that's what you taught me!"

"No," Lucius hissed. "We chose the side that was worthy. You align yourself with Mudbloods and Muggle _scum - _you champion the defender of everything a Malfoy wishes to eradicate!" He raised the wand, his skeletal fingers steady, empty determination gleaming in his eyes as he prepared to murder his son.

"And what have you gained from a life of servitude to the Dark Lord?" Draco ground out, his heart hammering in his chest, fear and sudden rage coursing through his veins like fire. "A dead master - a life on the run, Azkaban prison!"

"Inconveniences that must be suffered for the greater good," Lucius said coldly. "The Dark Lord will be reborn and we will cleanse the world of all the impure filth that have too long been allowed to -"

"You can't even know that he can be brought back! He's _dead_. No-one has ever been brought back from the dead before."

"_Enough_," Lucius growled. "Are you really so foolish as to believe the rules of the rabble apply to the Dark Lord? You were raised by his side - you know the lengths he went to in order to secure himself immortal life." He spoke Voldemorts' name with a manic reverence, fury blazing out of him, making every syllable tremble. He seemed to burn in the surrounding darkness. Fear bit at Dracos' insides like a wild animal.

"Time for you to die," Lucius whispered.

He aimed the stolen wand directly at Draco, who stared at him, mind jammed. He tried to move, to grab his own wand from his pocket… but he could not make his brain connect with his fingers. _Move_, his mind screamed. His father wanted to kill him. The door behind him seemed like miles away, the rest of the school completely unreachable. It was just him and Lucius, a murderer, a Death Eater.

"You can't do this," he whispered.

Lucius grinned. "Wrong," he hissed.

Draco stared. A low knocking came from behind him. It jarred in Dracos' mind, such a mundane sound in unbelievable circumstances. For a few eternal seconds he could not understand what it was he was hearing. The wand in his fathers' hand whipped to the side, pointing away from Draco to the door, a hiss escaping him.

"Draco?" came a muffled voice from behind the wood. Draco felt his heart sink - _Potter_.

"Oh god," he whispered. Harry knocked again, and the handle turned. The dark haired boy stepped hesitantly inside.

"Draco?"

Harry stood in the door frame, dim light spilling into the room. For a few seconds Harry did nothing but stare, blinking dazedly at Lucius and Draco as his mind tried to grasp and make sense of what he was seeing.

"What-?" he whispered. His eyes met Lucius Malfoys' and a wand was pointed straight at his heart.

Draco saw it coming, it was one of those moments where time reduces to slow motion. He saw the twitch of the wand and Lucius take a breath, his mouth forming around the words that might send a killing curse straight at Harry. Blind instinct overtook Draco and he rushed at his father, hand closing around the wand and wrenching it upwards, knocking the skeletal figure backwards. Lucius staggered and fell. The wand slipped from his grasp and a green jet of light shot upwards, hitting the ceiling and sending sparks showering down on them.

Draco whipped his wand from his pocket and pointed it down at the panting figure on the floor. Their eyes met.

"I won't let you hurt him," he growled. "_Stupefy_!"

A red beam of light shot from his wand, hitting Lucius squarely in the chest. A strangled cry escaped him and he slumped limply to the floor, unconscious.

Light seemed to flood the room, lamps flaring and the cold, oppressive dark lifting. The insentient figure on the floor lay perfectly still, tattered robes askew, grey hair matted. Lucius' eyes were closed. The wand lay beside him, a harmless strip of wood. Draco let out a shaky breath.

Harry was reeling. It had all happened in a matter of seconds. He watched Draco lean to pick up the stolen wand, watched him put it in his pocket. The blonde boy turned to him. His face was a blank mask, emotionless. Harry was certain he would be treated to the same cold indifference even now - and a gasp of surprise slipped from him when Draco suddenly crossed the room and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

"What the hell is going on?" he said, his voice muffled against Dracos' shirt. The familiar smell, the comforting warmth enveloped him. He kept his eyes on the unconscious figure on the floor.

"He escaped," Draco muttered. He buried his face in the crook of Harrys' neck and collar, comforted by the small, solid weight in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in a dark, safe room and go to sleep.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Harry nodded. Somebody had some serious explaining to do.

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A/N: Snugs, love, cookies and milk for **really-should get an-account, NiceAsPie, Maurader's Queen, xkohleyesx, SwarmOfFanGirls, CatClawz, BrilliantGreenEyes, eccarter, Princessbite-Me, evildictionaryninja, Strawberry Danger, Luffly Emi, bittersweet, bookgirl239, UzamakiKitsune, ClayCelloFire, Secluded Angel 33, globalfaerie, Libbie Da Adicted2Moony Loony, cyiusblack, Dezra, JWOHPfan, eleventy7, kiraranekochan, Suguri Takeuchi-chan, bannana2, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, crazysunshine42, Lady Sakura, Natasha AKA Tash, Nagini Potter **and** meghan7474.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim over anything to do with Harry Potter.

**A/N: **So, just to recap!: They found out Lucius was the one casting the curse and went to capture him from Malfoy Manor. Lucius felt all threatened and pulled Harry into the nightmares hoping to a. escape by being manifested through Harry's dream and b. kill Harry in the process. But just as he was coming through Draco stabbed the dream-Lucius, breaking the curse, and the real Lucius was taken to prison. Things are very tense between Harry and Draco, and when Draco goes down to his dormitories one night he finds an extremely murderous Lucius in his bedroom, who promptly tries to kill him. Harry comes in, wanting to reconcile with Draco - distracts Lucius, who goes for Harry - giving Draco time to stun his father and then him and Harry share a nice if somewhat baffling embrace. Got all that? xD I love you.

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Chapter 41

Harry sat looking around himself in Professor Dumbledores' office and thought about how oddly unreal everything seemed. How disconnected. He could scarcely believe he had walked into Draco's room and come face to face with Lucius Malfoy. It seemed like a distance of time stretched across galaxies since he and Draco had laid together in their small hospital wing bed, feeling the exhausted hopelessness bearing down on them. Even the fatigue seemed like a hazy memory, something blurred over with time. It was impossible to be that exhausted and keep a coherent mind, and therefore everything that had happened had blurred into one big mess in Harrys head. If it were not for the hard chair beneath him, the wooden seat he gripped in tight fingertips, he could easily believe the present moment was a dream as well. Everything seemed to glitter with unreality.

Draco sat next to him, colourless and blank-faced, his blonde hair tousled in a way Harry hated himself for finding appealing. He had not spoken to or even looked at Harry since that… moment, _whatever_ it was, back in the dormitory. He too seemed to be struggling to gravitate himself. Moonlight streamed in through the tall windows of the office, highlighting the spindly instruments that whirred and puffed on tables throughout the circular room, and the things that were not reached by the glow of the levitating candles were painted with a soft shine of silver light. It seemed impossible that something bad could happen in such surroundings. The only evidence of a conflict was the painfully fast beating of Harrys' heart.

The headmaster sat in front of them, behind his desk. He was wearing robes of darkest purple scattered with stars, and his expression was unusually severe. Cornelius Fudge was standing near the door, fiddling anxiously with the green bowler hat clasped in his hands. He was red-faced and agitated.

"So what you are saying," Professor Dumbledore said to Fudge, his voice calmly authoritative, "is that Lucius Malfoy never actually made it to Azkaban prison?" He leaned back in his high-backed chair and gave Fudge a look Harry recognised well. Like he was x-raying him, looking into his mind.

"He escaped," Fudge answered. He had stumbled into the room a few minutes ago, looking exhausted and highly distressed. "The Aurors who took him from the dungeons were supposed to escort him to Azkaban. Two of them. He overpowered them, stole a wand. They're dead."

"And he disapparated?"

"It, ah - it appears that way. He was nowhere near the scene when we found them."

"Why the hell didn't you tell us this?" Harry asked furiously. "He was on the loose and you didn't bother to tell anyone?"

"But of course," Dumbledore interjected. "Such an embarrassing state of affairs, two Aurors murdered by a captive Death Eater. You did not want word getting out, Cornelius?"

Fury flared inside Harry, licking through his veins, his heart clenched. Draco never took his eyes from the Minister of Magic, gazing at him with a kind of detached reproachfulness. Fudge span his bowler in his hands and looked flustered.

"Now see here Dumbledore - we didn't know, we thought we could round him up again - and no-one dreamed he could get inside Hogwarts, I mean - the defences -"

"So you just let us go on thinking he was in prison, to save face?" Harry ground out. "The fact that we were all in danger didn't bother you as long as the wizarding world didn't realise what a pathetic job you're doing cleaning up Voldemorts mess?"

Fudge turned maroon with apoplexy. "Now - wait just one minute -!" he spluttered. The portraits on the walls around them murmured to each other, glancing and pointing at Fudge and his jury. "It's not like we were just letting him get on with it! We've had people out searching for him for the past five days! Stationed all around Hogsmeade - watching the castle -"

"And he still managed to get in. Really great job," Harry muttered derisively. The outrageous behaviour of the Ministry was barely unbelievable, given their track record.

"What will happen to him now?" Draco asked. His voice was hoarse. Harry looked at him, startled. It was the first time the Slytherin boy had spoken since entering the office. Fawkes the phoenix let out a low squawk from his corner perch.

"He has been taken away," Dumbledore supplied gently. "We hope this time he will reach Azkaban prison."

"I'd like to see him escape," Fudge said stoutly. "He's been Stunned - task team of Aurors, four Dementors taking him in. Wouldn't be surprised if they gave him the Kiss right there and then. I mean - er -" he stuttered, meeting Draco's blank gaze.

"Thank you Cornelius," Dumbledore said authoritatively. "Perhaps you should go down to the dungeons and oversee the matter."

Fudge grimaced like the headmaster had given him a particularly unpleasant household chore to do, and saw himself out. They listened in silence to his echoing footsteps fade away as he descended the spiral staircase. Professor Dumbledore sighed.

"Now… Harry," he said. "Perchance it is time you went to bed. A good long rest is often the best cure for trauma. And Mr. Malfoy, I would like a quick moment of your time before you retire, if you don't mind?"

Draco nodded. He lifted his gaze to Harry for the first time, his grey eyes huge and dark. He nodded ever so slightly, and Harry understood. _Wait for me_. He left the office with a mumbled "good night" to the headmaster, taking the stairs two at a time. Emotions raged inside him like storms. The fury he felt at the Ministry was overwhelming - to let Lucius escape, to do nothing! He could have been killed, Draco could have been killed, along with any innocent bystander who might have found themselves in the path of a Death Eater making his way to the Slytherin dungeons. It sickened Harry. His fury warred with the rattling bite of nerves over what would happen next. Would Malfoy Snr be put on trial? His crimes were surely enough to put him in prison for life - to receive the Dementors Kiss. Fudge had said they would do it. In front of Draco, Harry thought angrily.

He paused outside the entrance flanked by stone gargoyles, leaning back against the side of the left one. It grumbled indignantly. Harry watched the shadows shift slowly across the flagged stone floor, absorbed in his thoughts. More than anything - and maybe he was wrong to care most about this, but he could not help himself - he was anxious over what might happen when Draco followed him down the stairs. He wanted Harry to wait. What for? To reconcile with him, to set things right? Or to state once and for all that they were through? A ghost drifted slowly past him through the darkened corridor and he stood, unnoticed, waiting with his heart pounding in his chest.

It seemed bizarre that a month ago Harry had despised Draco Malfoy, hated him so much he would have gladly never laid eyes on him again, would have relished seeing his father sent to prison. And while he was undeniably glad that Lucius was going to Azkaban, where he would not be able to reach Harry, or set more curses on him, he could not deny that he was worried about how Draco would take it and worried about what it might mean for the two of them together. That was disturbing in itself. That he should care so much about his former enemy, that his heart should contract in painful enthralment every time he laid eyes upon the blonde haired Slytherin boy.

It seemed like the Draco he knew now was not the same one he had known and hated before. That Draco would never have helped Harry, seen him through such horrible times, comforted him in the grip of his nightmares and patched up his wounds so carefully. Yet he had done all of those things. It was undeniable that without him Harry would be dead already. As undeniable as the way Harry felt dizzy and excited, the way his heart leapt when Draco was with him. He sighed.

The crunching grind of turning stone jerked him from his thoughts. He span round as Draco stepped off the last rotating stair. Their eyes met, Draco looked tired and troubled and _god_ Harry wanted to pull him forward and kiss him and -

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"What did Dumbledore want?"

"To be filled in on what happened, you know - before you got there. And to check I wasn't going to have a nervous breakdown or something."

"Are you?"

"No."

"What did?"

Draco sighed. "I went into my room, it was dark and the lamps wouldn't light - my father appeared and tried to kill me, you came in and distracted him, I Stunned him." Draco's voice was blunt and tired.

Harry nodded. He could fill in the blanks for himself. "Sorry," he said softly.

"Yeah."

Silence took over them. Harry stood, feeling awkward, not quite knowing how to take this monosyllabic, disinterested Draco. The wind echoed in quiet howls around the walls. It was nearing midnight, the air cold and dark.

"So - what did you -?" Harry began desperately.

"Want to speak to you about?" Draco asked. "I thought you'd want to question me. About what happened. You only follow me around if you don't get answers straight away."

Harry felt himself going red. An overwhelming feeling had taken hold of him, a feeling of stark reality. He was Harry Potter, he was standing next to Draco Malfoy - he wanted to talk to him and embrace him and touch him and he had no excuse for doing so. This was different from before. There was no curse, no spell binding them together, forcing companionship on them. Nothing to hide behind. It was just Harry and Draco with nothing to pin the blame on except for the fact that Harry genuinely wanted to be near this exasperating, infuriating, enchanting boy and wished that Draco would want him too. It was a little… embarrassing.

"I don't _follow you around_," he muttered. Silence fell between them once more.

Draco studied the dark haired boy before him, staring resolutely at the floor. He knew they needed to talk - to work things out, set things straight. But at that moment Draco was so exhausted and beleaguered he wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed in the dark and never speak to another person again.

"Is that all -" Harry began suddenly.

"Potter," Draco cut across him. He rolled his shoulders slightly, they were starting to ache. "I have to go."

Harry blinked. "Oh - right."

"I'll talk to you later - I'll come to you, what's the password for your common room?"

"Password…?" Harry said blankly, feeling like his mind could not quite keep up. "Oh - it's _Incendio_."

Draco nodded. "I'll come later. I just…" he looked around at the shadowy corridor, the dark sky outside. A few pale stars were visible through the glass. Somewhere out there was his father, being taken to prison. His father had come to kill him. He half-raised his hands, trying to sum it all up with one hopeless gesture. "Right now I kind of want to be alone," he said.

Harry nodded.

Draco stared at him, an unreadable expression on his fine, pale features. Harry watched, mystified, as he took a hesitant step forward, closing the gap between them. Harry felt the same familiar sensation he had felt before, when they were alone together in their hospital room. Like a nervous flutter clutching at his heart. He swallowed. Draco gazed at him, his grey eyes intent. He breathed a slow, deep breath and raised a hand to stroke feather-light fingertips through Harry's hairline, down across his jaw. They gazed at each other for a few silent moments. Harry did not dare move, did not want to break the spell.

The faintest echo of noise reached their ears from the floor below. Probably Peeves causing havoc, or a student out of bed. Draco whipped his arm back as though caught, stumbling backwards. A shaky gasp escaped Harry.

"I've got to go," Draco mumbled. "I'll - I'll see you later."

And he turned and walked away. He did not look back. Business as usual, Harry thought glumly.

He set off slowly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. What the hell had that been about? He sighed. It was late and he was tired, but he would stay up and wait for Draco to come to him. Hopefully the common room would be empty already. He peered cautiously around shadowy corners, the dark silence thrumming along his tight nerves. He felt stupid, but he could not help himself.

"_Incendio_," he said to the Fat Lady, dozing in her frame, and pulled himself into the empty common room, dimly lit with a few glowing embers from the fire. He settled himself into the cosiest armchair and pulled out his wand. He would wait for Draco to come.

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Safely inside his dormitory once more, ignoring the bewildered shouts of his house-mates in the common room, Draco closed and sealed the door. It was dark, all the beds empty. He leaned heavily against the door with an exhausted sigh. He could not stop his eyes roaming through the shadowed corners, searching for a silhouette, a dark figure, an enemy. When he was a child Hogwarts had seemed like an impregnable fortress, the safest place on Earth. It seemed a fitting, twisted irony that the only place he had ever felt truly at home was now under threat from members of his own family. His father had come to kill him.

He stumbled over to his bed, not bothering to get undressed, falling into the covers. He felt like the darkness was pressing into him, every inch filled with unseen nightmares. His imagination saw vicious grey eyes lit with hatred glaring out of the dark, the outline of black robes in the shadows. Draco rolled over and thought of Potter. Harry. The Boy Who Lived, who was all he had left. He rolled over, tried to think what he would say when he went to see the other boy later. _His father had come to kill him_. His own father wanted him dead. Draco had never felt so frighteningly alone. He lay in the darkness and curled his fingers around the sheets in tight fistfuls, blinking back the tears.

He could only hope that after everything, Harry would not push him away.

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**A/N: **So… **Bethy Ann, SilVeR-EyeS-93, total immortal, dobeisme, JoinTheDots, evildictionaryninja, xkohleyesx, JWOHPfan, deformed beauty, Nagini Potter, Kiraranekochan, Lady Sakura, bittersweet, , eleventy7, really-should get an-account, Caldonya, NiceAsPie, bookgirl239, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Secluded Angel 33, SwarmOfFanGirls, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24, meghan7474, Wolf.** THANK YOU!


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim over anything to do with Harry Potter.

**A/N: **A speedy update to make up for the epically unspeedy updates of late.

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It was nearing six o'clock in the morning when a fully dressed Hermione Granger tiptoed her way down the stone dormitory steps and into the Gryffindor common room. The pale light of dawn was slowly filling the room, casting long shadows across the faded scarlet carpet. The fire was nothing more than a few dull red embers amongst a pile of grey ash. It was silent except for the distant call of birdsong in the grey dawn outside. She wanted to spend an hour or so in the library before breakfast, researching for an essay on Ancient Runes.

She stroked Crookshanks the cat as she passed him, uncurling himself from the arm of a couch and flexing his claws with a yawn. He leaped lightly from the sofa and prowled away across the common room floor. Hermione followed him with her eyes, and it was this that made her spot a figure curled up in the cosiest armchair near the fire, apparently fast asleep. Harry.

Hermione approached him, surprised. What was he doing there? His breathing was deep and slow, he was nestled into the chair with his head on the arm, his bag on the floor beside him.

"Harry," she whispered, kneeling down in front of him. "Harry?"

He did not stir. She reached out and shook him lightly. He mumbled unintelligibly, eyelashes fluttering. He always looked so innocent when he was sleeping. It took her several more attempts to bring him around and the first thing out of his mouth when he opened his eyes was a weary, sleep-muddled "Draco?"

"No, Harry. It's me."

"Hermione?" he stared at her. "What are you doing here?"

"You're in the common room," she said, studying him with a feeling of curious dread in her stomach_. Draco_?

"I'm -? Oh." He sat up, his joints cracking as he rubbed a knot from his aching shoulder. Not the most comfortable night he had ever spent. "I fell asleep. What time is it?"

"Six a.m."

Six a.m.? He had been there for nearly five hours and Draco… Draco had not come. Harry felt exhausted. He had been plagued by dreams, dreams of a very different kind to the nightmares made by Lucius Malfoy that throbbed along his nerves as they closed the walls around him. He had dreamt of fleeting snatches of silver and grey, of chasing something in and out of air-light spaces, always a fingertips distance away from his grasp. _I'll come to you later - what's the password for your common room?_

Why had he not come?

"You were waiting for Malfoy?"

The question startled him. A flush of heat spread across his face and he opened his mouth to stammer out a denial.

"Harry," Hermione cut across him, raising a hand. "Don't insult my intelligence."

He gaped at her. "What -? I -"

"You've obviously been here all night, waiting for someone - and you said Malfoys name when you woke up. Harry," she studied him seriously, his cheeks flushed, fingers twisting at the cuff of his sleeve. She rose and perched on the arm of his chair. "What's going on with you two? I mean… you've been bordering on depression for ages, with the curse lifted and everything I thought everything would be back to normal. I know you said you had feelings for him before but... I thought - given time - all of that would fade away. But you're not - it's like you're still… still _there_. Somehow."

"Still where?" said Harry, bewildered.

"In the hospital wing. Under the curse. Wherever. Still… dependent on him. Malfoy."

He stared up at her. She dug her feet into the seat of the armchair, gazing at him in the dim light. Her tone was not accusatory, not angry - just curious and concerned. She was worried about him. He felt a swell of affection towards her.

"I'm not dependent on Malfoy," he said quietly.

"But there's something? I thought you said he broke it off with you? Harry you do realise that Ron will murder you if you're having a secret affair with _Draco Malfoy_."

Harry chuckled.

"You're _not_, are you? I was only joking - but god, Ron _would_ kill you!"

"You don't think I'd get his blessing?" Harry said, only half serious.

"I think you'd land him a life sentence in Azkaban."

"Even though Draco saved my life - about three times? He helped me through the nightmares, he risked his own life to get the ashtavarga. He stabbed his own father for me." Harry swallowed, feeling an iron fist clench around his heart. He _couldn't_ lose Draco, not now. Not after everything.

"It wasn't the real Lucius Malfoy."

"But we didn't know that then. For all he knew he was stabbing the real thing. And he still did it."

"Yes, but - Harry, come on!" Hermione shook her head. "It's still _Malfoy_! Think about everything that he's done to you, to all of us."

"People change," Harry said softly.

She simply stared at him. Two fourth-years drifted down from the dormitory, yawning as they headed through the portrait hole. Crookshanks prowled the common room, looking under chairs and stretching his claws under tables, looking for something to hunt. Harry simply sat there, picking at the sleeve of his sweater.

"You're not really seeing him, are you?" she asked quietly.

He sighed. "No. I'm not having a secret affair with Draco." He gazed up at her, wide-eyed and truthful. "But it's not through lack of trying."

"_What?_"

"Hermione! You'll wake up the whole House."

"Well - but… oh _Harry_! I knew something was going on, but this is… are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"No," Harry smiled wryly.

"You said he told you he wanted to forget all about it!"

"I know he did. Maybe he still does. I don't know."

"Have you thought about the _risks_? You could be putting yourself in serious danger -"

"Whereas if I steer clear of Draco my life will be danger-free? Somehow I don't think so. I'm always at risk from something."

"Don't say that - and Harry, I mean - do you actually still have feelings for him? For Malfoy?" she stared at him so completely appalled that Harry almost had to repress a laugh. "I thought it was just a side-effect of the curse? You're not _gay_, Harry!"

"I know I'm not," said Harry. "It's… not like that. It's different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "Look, Hermione, if you're looking for answers I'm gonna have to disappoint you. I don't even know myself. I just…" he trailed off, searching for the words. "I trust him," he said. He looked up at her. "And I know him."

"Are you in love with him?" Her voice was awed.

Harry stared at her. In love…? He had never even considered it. Draco was Draco, blonde hair and smooth skin and flashing eyes and warm arms… a complete bastard when he wanted to be. Arrogant. Conceited. Spoiled. Acerbic. Surprising. Caring. Charming. Harry thought about Draco, making him laugh to keep his spirits up. Draco leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips, making Harry's exhausted mind feel like it was drowning. Draco's eyes shining with tears of guilt and concern. Love…?

He shook his head. "I… don't know," he whispered. Hermione was staring at him. "But - Hermione… trust me. I know Draco." He shifted slightly, and seemed to pull Hermione out of a trance. He felt suddenly exposed, remote - as if she too had seen the images dancing through his brain.

"Well - I hope you know what you're doing," she said doubtfully. "I still think you need to be ever so careful. I've got to go - I'm supposed to be in the library."

He smiled at her.

"We'll talk later, okay?" she rose, heading for the portrait hole.

Harry nodded. "Yeah." He waved her out.

After she left he sat for maybe five minutes, letting his thoughts wander. The sun was completely risen now, pale gold light flooding the room, touching his skin and warming it. Dust streamed through the shafting sunbeams. He felt hungry and like he needed to stretch his legs. Maybe a walk would do him good. Fresh air. Chance to think. He watched Crookshanks leap lightly onto a sofa, purring discontentedly.

"Crookshanks," he called softly. The cat eyed him with lofty disregard, turned once, twice, and settled into the sofa, closing his orange eyes. Harry was bizarrely reminded of Draco. He got up, deciding to go for a walk in the grounds. His muscles ached and his mind hummed with tiredness.

Pushing the blank back of the Fat Lady's portrait, he stifled a yawn as it swung outwards. He climbed through, checking his watch. Six fifteen. Three quarters of an hour till breakfast.

He was not really looking where he was going, and a breathless "hello" startled him so much he nearly toppled backwards. He clung to the walled frame of the opening as a hand darted out to grab him, his vision a blur of blonde hair and white skin.

Draco pulled him through, steadying him. He was wearing the same clothes as last night, slightly crumpled and he looked tired and _oh so sexy _that Harry considered pretending to fall again so he could collapse into those pale arms. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You're here," he said stupidly.

"Yes," Draco agreed.

"It's quarter past six in the morning."

"Your observational skills really are unparalleled, Potter. Are you going to invite me in, or not?"

"Invite -?" Harry repeated blankly. "Oh. Yes. I mean no. Walk. I'm - I'm going for a walk."

"A walk?" Draco eyed him with the faintest air of amusement.

"Round the lake. Want to come with me?"

"Not even slightly. We can walk to the kitchens for something to eat and then walk back here again. It's too cold outside, too windy for conversation."

"Too windy," Harry echoed. "Conversation?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I would ask if you are always this moronic in the mornings, Harry, but I've seen evidence to the contrary. Shall I just put it down to some sort of temporary insanity?"

Harry nodded.

"Shall we go to the kitchens, then?" Draco gave him a gentle shove in the appropriate direction, smirking. Harry could not help but laugh. "And then back here to talk."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Later," Draco said. Their eyes met. "Breakfast first."

Harry nodded and fell in line beside the Slytherin boy. Together they set off in search of breakfast. They walked in silence through the deserted corridors, and Hermione's earlier words seemed to ring back through Harry's ears; _I still think you should be ever so careful. _Was he being careful? Did he need to be? Maybe she was right…?

But then fingers brushed his and linked lightly through, palms touching as Draco gave his hand a brief squeeze, looking up to smile - almost shyly at him, Harry thought, and felt all rational logic fly completely out the window. His heart squeezed painfully. _Sod it_, he thought. He smiled back.

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**A/N: **We are sooooo near the end now I can almost TASTE it. I don't know if I'm really really thrilled or very very depressed. Serious amounts of gratitude go to **evildictionaryninja, Caldonya, DawnPapaya, SwarmOfFanGirls, Nagini Potter, Kiraranekochan, icey91, Lady Sakura **(lovelovelovelove), **cyiusblack, global aerie, xkohleyesx, meib, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24, meghan7474, Secluded Angel 33, acalboi, Strawberry Danger **(stunningly good, or stunningly bad?) **Miyako Suou, JWOHPfan, bittersweet, eleventy7, Eizoku **and **Wolf**. Five HUNDRED reviews! I don't know how to keep saying it without losing the effect of what I'm saying, but seriously. I am so so grateful for all your reviews and support :)


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary: **A spell is cast on Harry which creates lots of angst. Draco comes along and creates lots of fluff. Hurrah. Not HBP/DH compliant. Slaaaaaash!

**Disclaimer: **Sadly Harry Potter does not belong to me.

**A/N: **I know, I know. I am useless and deserve to be fried in batter and hung upside down for bears to eat. Sorry.

This is THE FINAL CHAPTER. The end is seriously nigh. Well, there might be an epilogue if you guys can think of something you want to see happen afterwards (and because 43 seems like a terrible amount of chapters), but for all intents and purposes - this is it. Sad times. I'm almost reluctant to post it!

This definitely isn't the last you'll be hearing from me though. I've got a million and one new ideas to get started with. Oh! - if anyone is interested in being my beta for upcoming stuff and offering serious concrit and inspirationlyness, please let me know!

Now I leave you in the capable hands of Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter.

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Chapter 43

Safely ensconced in the deserted common room once more, a stack of buttered crumpets between them and invisibility cloak at the ready to throw over Draco should any early-rising Gryffindors wander through, they sat in the furthest corner of the room from the doors. Draco looked around interestedly, taking in the tall windows and squashy armchairs. This was very different to the Slytherin house common room.

"I think I could get used to coming here."

Harry felt a pleased flush spread across his face, smiling reluctantly. "Yeah? Even surrounded by Gryffindors?"

"Well, they'd have to go. And the colour scheme too. Scarlet and gold - terrible. But it's a lot more comfortable than Slytherin. More windows. And cushions. Better than our little hospital room, too."

"I think I could quite happily never set foot in that room again," Harry muttered.

"Me too."

"Why were you just standing outside the door earlier?"

"Because I was late - I didn't know if there would be anyone in here. What would I give as an excuse if half of Gryffindor saw me walking into their common room on a Saturday morning?"

Harry nodded. "I thought you'd come earlier," he said softly. "I fell asleep waiting for you."

"Me too - I mean, I meant to. But I fell asleep."

They were sitting facing each other near a tall narrow window spotted with raindrops, Harry on the ledge sitting with his legs crossed and Draco on an armchair beside him.

Harry swallowed the last bite of breakfast, setting down his flask of pumpkin juice. It was surreal, sitting in the Gryffindor common room eating breakfast with Draco Malfoy. Everything that had happened between them, the arguments, confrontations, fights, tender pre-dawn moments where Draco had cleaned his wounds and held him tight, the kisses and even the occasional laugh - Harry felt like it was all building towards this moment and he had no idea what might happen next. It was not just that Draco was a different person. He felt like he, Harry, was a different person too.

"So," he said nervously. "You wanted to talk?"

Draco gazed up at him, half a crumpet raised towards his mouth. He set it down thoughtfully, rubbing crumbs and grease from his fingertips, looking down at the carpet.

"Yeah," he said. "I suppose… what I wanted to -"

"Someone's coming!" Harry hissed suddenly, yanking the cloak out so quickly it startled Draco. Harry threw it over him as the distant thud of feet on stone steps grew louder behind them. Harry panicked for a moment and then ripped up the cloak to squeeze underneath himself, grabbing the flask of juice too just in time.

Ron stumbled down the last stair from the dormitories, clad in jeans and a maroon Weasley sweater, stifling a yawn. Harry let out a quiet, shaky breath, his heart pounding. He and Draco were squeezed together in the armchair, Harry practically sitting on his lap. He could feel the thud of Draco's heartbeat, feel every inch of their bodies pressed together. Scarlet heat flushed his cheeks.

"Probably looking for you," Draco breathed, watching Weasley scan the seemingly-deserted common room. He gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the fact that Harry was all but sitting in his lap. _Ignore ignore ignore ignore._

Harry watched Ron meander through the tower, praying he would not come over, praying he would leave, wondering what on earth he would do if he could somehow know who was sitting twenty feet away from him under an invisibility cloak. Harry wanted to move but he didn't dare. His face was buried in the crook of Draco's neck which was maddeningly inviting. Draco had grabbed him to steady him when he first pulled the cloak over them and now somehow Draco's arm was still around him, hand at the small of his back. He heard Draco whisper "_sod off, Weasley_," under his breath and had to fight the urge to burst out laughing.

His hand was pinned to the chair under Draco's shoulder, starting to itch. For one horrific moment Ron picked up a newspaper and Harry thought he was going to sit down and read the entire thing - but he merely scanned the front page, threw it back down with a frown, and headed off out the portrait hole into the corridor beyond.

Harry let out the breath he had been holding.

"Ron never gets up this early," he muttered. He tugged his hand out from between Draco and the armchair, flexing his fingers. Draco pulled the cloak off them.

"Probably wondering where you are," he said softly. They looked at each other, eyes meeting, and the situation seemed to present itself all over again.

"Oh," Harry said, blushing. "Sorry about - I'll just…" he pushed himself up and off Draco, sitting on the arm of the chair. Draco resettled himself on the cushion, running the cloak through his hands, looking ruffled.

"S'ok," he muttered. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Harry did not go all the way back to his window ledge seat. He leaned back, facing the dark haired boy, their legs touching lightly.

"So," Harry said again. "You wanted to talk."

Draco stared at his hands, contemplating Harry's words. Now he was there, now the moment had arrived, he was not sure he could bring himself to say it. To confess… those feelings, seemed like an endless bridge he had never been taught how to cross. He scratched his arm absently.

"I really didn't know… about my father," he mumbled.

Rain tapped lightly at the windowpane, the faintest whistle of wind speeding round the castle towers. Harry blinked at the blonde haired boy before him. It felt so like before, like sitting in their tiny hospital room, listening to the world storming outside while their own troubles gathered around them.

"I know that," he said softly. He reached out and wrapped his fingers slowly round Draco's pale hand. "I don't blame you."

Gazing at their entwined hands, Draco nodded.

"Will he stand trial?"

"Doubt it," Draco said dully. "He hasn't got a chance in hell of being found innocent. Fudge was probably right, they'll give him the Kiss and chuck him in a cell to rot. Can't risk him breaking out again."

"Are you going to go see him?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Why? So he can try to murder me again?" Draco said bitterly, feeling his insides burn and his eyes begin to prickle and sting. "Let him rot."

Harry squeezed his hand gently. "Sorry," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"Well… he's your father. It's like… you've lost him."

Draco shook his head, throat tight. "I never had him in the first place."

They sat in silence for a few moments, hands still clasped, lost in separate thoughts.

"Anyway," said Draco in a barely audible voice. "I already made my choice."

He looked up at Harry, unsure. The dark haired boy simply gazed at him, waiting. Draco sighed.

"About… before. When I said we should stop seeing each other."

"Yeah," Harry said. Tense, tight hopefulness stirred in his chest.

"I thought I could make everything I felt about you… I thought I could make it go away. Once the curse was lifted. That's what we were supposed to do, that's what I've done for my entire life. Shut away the emotions I don't want to feel. Even though I knew the curse only created your feelings, not mine - it was still easy to blame it, somehow." Draco swallowed, avoiding Harry's eyes. "I convinced myself everything would go back to normal in the end."

"But you were wrong?" Harry asked softly.

Draco was silent for a moment, staring at his hands, trying to process the conclusion he had already come to, days ago. He nodded. "Yeah."

Harry gazed at him, not daring to speak, just waiting for him to continue. Every nerve in his body was tightly strung and the knot in his chest burned and twisted. _Please_, he thought.

The Slytherin boy stared down at his hands, fiddling awkwardly with the cuff of his sleeve, his fingers brushing Harry's. He drew in a deep, steadying breath. He could never remember feeling this nervous but he knew he had to say it, now or never.

"When I thought something might happen to you - when I thought he was going to kill you…" he swallowed, could not bring himself to look into Harry's eyes. He took another breath and admitted something he had never admitted to anybody in his entire life. "I was so scared."

Harry felt his breath catch.

"And then… when he came, we were fighting… and suddenly he disappeared and you collapsed." Draco shook his head. "I couldn't help you. I thought you were going to die."

"He pulled me back into the nightmare," Harry said softly. "It was real, wasn't it? What you said to me, when I was falling…?"

Draco looked up at him. "You remember?"

_"Just hold on, come on Harry… just hang on…"_

_"Everything hurts," he whispered, his face screwed up in pain._

_Draco leaning down to kiss him, the taste of blood and fear. "I know," he soothed, blinking back tears. "Just hold on, okay?"_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I need you."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because… I -"_

Harry shook his head. "I thought it was a dream."

"You were covered in blood, you were shaking. I thought you were dying… I was so…" he looked up at Harry, shaking his head. "I think that's part of why I was so angry at you afterwards. I never wanted to be… so dependent on another person. I had to distance myself from it."

"What's the other part?" Harry asked. Draco let out his breath in a single, humourless laugh.

"I stabbed my own father. I thought he was going to die. I killed him… for you. I gave up on everything I was ever told, everything I was ever supposed to become, for you. You can't blame me for freaking out a bit."

Harry exhaled slowly. "I suppose not."

"But… I'm not… I'm okay now," Draco looked at him suddenly, hope sparkling in his eyes. "We could - if you still want to, I mean - we could… pick up where we left off?"

Harry stared at him, jarred not only by the words but by this nervous, hesitant Draco. "What?"

"Well - you said you wanted to… you know," Draco stammered, faltering. After everything, was Harry going to turn him down? "I thought maybe… I mean, if you've changed your mind -"

"Changed… my mind? You mean about… you? You and me?" Harry asked, feeling himself blush.

Draco nodded. "Yeah."

Harry stared, completely floored, at Draco. Was he being serious?

"Are you being serious?" he asked. "Changed - of _course _I haven't - Draco," he threw caution to the wind entirely. "Of course I haven't changed my mind!"

Draco's eyes were wide and hopeful. "Really?" he asked softly. His heart fluttered frantically in his chest, his skin tingling over frayed nerves. Harry smiled, blushing. Draco grinned. He reached out a hesitant hand and tugged Harry down, back into the seat, into his lap. "You really haven't?" he whispered. He cautiously reached up a hand and wound his fingers round Harry's arm.

They gazed at each other, Harry flushed and delighted. He shook his head.

"I really haven't," he whispered back. He wriggled closer, his hands curling into the fabric of Draco's sweater, feeling the familiar, wonderful, comforting sensation of being in the other boys arms wash through him. Draco pulled his legs up and Harry fell against his chest, chuckling.

"Nothing's changed," he said wonderingly. "When I'm with you I still feel… safe."

Draco tilted Harry's chin up with one free hand. He studied that face for a moment, green eyes and lightning scar and a half-smile playing across soft lips. This was different to frightened Harry, to the Harry who clung to his sanity with a thread that he had come to know. This was much better. There was so much more to be explored. He leaned down and pressed a soft, firm kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry let out a low sound of pleasure, his eyelashes fluttering closed. He kissed Draco back, hands working upwards to wind around the Slytherin boys' shoulders, fingers sliding into soft blonde hair. Draco tipped him back slightly into the chair and pressed on top of him, kissing him. It felt perfect to be trapped under that warm weight, bodies pressed tight, legs entangled. A soft moan of bliss escaped him.

"Draco…" he murmured into the kiss.

Desire built like a storm cloud inside Draco. He kissed harder, gripped Harry tighter. A distant noise barely registered in his mind, a startled "Ahem!" from somewhere behind him. He could only think of Harry, only feel Harry. The hands tangled in his hair felt so good, fingers sliding down to grip his arm, hold his waist. He never wanted this to end. Harry's lips were soft, tongue slipping into his mouth, surrounding him with the heated taste of desire. "Harry," he moaned.

"_Ahem_!"

Harry jerked backwards suddenly and the shock of loss was disorientating. Draco opened his eyes, staring down at the dark-haired boy, who was gazing across the room with a look akin to horror on his face.

"Erm… hi," he said weakly. Draco turned.

Weasley and Granger, standing in the tower doorway. Weasley looked like he had very recently been clubbed round the head with a blunt object. He gaped at the two boys sitting together and could not seem to find words or facial expression enough for what he saw.

"Well," Granger said pointedly. "You two made up."

Harry groaned, burying himself into Draco's sweater, his cheeks scarlet and a reluctant grin plastered across his face. "I can explain," he said, his voice muffled.

"I think we get the gist already, Harry."

"Oh, my god," Weasley groaned.

Draco scowled at this pair of interrupting Gryffindors. "A little privacy, please?" he snapped. Harry chuckled.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said, an astonished grin on her face. "Malfoy - we'll be having words later," she promised, prodding Ron towards the portrait hole.

"Tetchy," Harry chuckled when they were gone. "I think I'm going to die of embarrassment."

"Let me make one thing clear right now," said Draco, grinning. "I'm signing up for _Harry_, okay? Nothing more. No add-ons, no-one else in on the bargain. This does not mean I have to start being nice to your friends."

"I would never ask that from you."

"Good. And don't think you're going to start poisoning me with your Gryffindor sensibilities, either."

Harry kissed him to shut him up.

"Draco?"

"Mmmm…"

Harry squared his shoulders and studied Draco intently. He hated to spoil the mood, but… he had to say it. He voiced something that had been worrying him for a while now.

"Your father said Voldemort created that curse - what if another Death Eater knows how to cast it?"

Draco shook his head. "Now that they know what it is, they can understand it. They'll find a way to block it. You don't have to worry about that."

"Are you sure? I honestly don't think I could go through all that again."

"I'm sure. They'll get it out of my father, or Dumbledore will figure it out."

Harry reached out a hand and lightly stroked his fingers through Draco's hair, playing with the soft blonde locks.

"You know that all of this is nowhere near over?" he asked quietly. Draco looked up at him, a slight frown creasing his brow. Harry could not help but lean over and kiss him. "It's still dangerous out there," he said. "There's Death Eaters on the run up and down the country. Your father said they're rallying together, making plans. He escaped the Ministrys' hold and he probably won't be the last one to do it. Who knows what other plans or creations of Voldemorts they've got up their sleeves." He sighed. "You align yourself with me, you put yourself in danger. We've got another fight on our hands, I think."

He rested his head wearily on Draco's shoulder, closing his eyes. He had been foolish to believe the death of Voldemort meant the end of the wizarding war. He saw that now. He accepted it. If he had to fight, to try to make the world a better place, then he would fight. And keep on battling until they reached an end - of the war, of his own life, he did not know.

Draco's hand found his and pale fingers squeezed his tight. The white scars on Harrys hand from Umbridge, from Lucius, shone in the pale morning light.

"I know all of that," the blonde boy said softly. "I know everything you could possibly say to dissuade me. It doesn't change my mind. I still want…"

"I don't want to dissuade you," Harry said. "I'm not that heroic. I want you… here. With me. I just want to make sure you know we're not safe. Everything's still dangerous. We've got a fight ahead of us."

Draco smiled, leaned in and kissed him. "I'll take care of you," he whispered.

Harry smiled. He had missed this, this feeling of a shared solitude, of Draco and he together against the world. His felt his heart squeeze almost painfully tight and he wriggled sideways to whisper in Draco's ear.

"I love you."

Draco smirked. "Course you do."

Harry grinned. He could not resist cuffing Draco round the head with his sleeve.

"I'm exhausted," he said. "Let's go to bed."

He rose, pulling Draco by the hand up the stone steps to the dormitory, listening to the dual sound of footsteps on the granite floor, the distant sounds of pattering rain. Tumbling onto the bed together, tugging off shoes and trousers, the wonderful familiar feeling of being in Draco's arms. Harry closed his eyes, feeling sleep, unthreatening, soothing sleep pulling at him. Draco kissed the top of his head, nuzzling into his hair.

"Harry?"

"Mmm…?

"I love you too."

For the first time in a long time, their dreams were peaceful.

**THE END.**

--

**A/N: **They got a tiny moment of happiness, at least. Even if the big bad world is still turning. I wanted it to be semi-realistic, I'm afraid! I really hope you enjoyed. Feel free to bombard me with congratulations, hatred, demands… whatever you feel like!

Thankyous! **Ridickulus101, Kitty Smith, madamadadanechibisuke, Kiraranekochan, evildictionaryninja, iggyluvjaz, Strawberry Danger, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Caldonya, eleventy7, Secluded Angel 33, bittersweet, Cutechipmunk87, JoinTheDots, xkohleyesx, meghan7474, Wolf, Lady Sakura, Nagini Potter, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24, Bethy Ann, Natasha AKA Tash, SwarmOfFanGirls and Dezra. **

And… some extra special love and worship to the people who were there from the very beginning of the story, and whose reviews I looked forward to most: **RikasGrayWolf, xXxDecemberxXxRainxXx, Secluded Angel 33, TwIlIgHt-LoVeR24, Nagini Potter, Dezra**, **TheGirlWithCheeseInHerPocket**, **forevrlostinme,** and last but most definitely not least… **Lady Sakura of the Fated**. You guys rock my world. Thankyou!


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